


So Others May Live

by williewildkat



Category: The Last Ship
Genre: CDC, F/M, Pandemic - Freeform, USAMRIID, season one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williewildkat/pseuds/williewildkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: Don't own anyone but any OC's...</p><p>I'm going to apologize ahead of time if I make any mistakes with military concepts and/or vocabulary. I did do some research but like writing, it's a constant work in progress. That being said, I anticipate some people to NOT like some of the plot ideas that I will have. The way I see it is: Everyone's been gone, there is no contact and 85% of the population is DEAD. The crew of the Nathan James will have to come to terms with the fact family and friends are gone since the last contact with anyone. Alex serves two purposes: Continue in the fight to find a cure and vaccine and as someone for Chandler to gravitate to. After seeing Phase Six, I realized the man needs someone who can challenge him; be his match. I have no regrets as many of you who follow me know this by now. I mean in something like this, USAMRIID would be involved.</p><p>Long story short: During a disaster where all normalcy as it was known is gone and a new reality emerges, people will forge new relationships as we, the human species, are social creatures and need emotional and physical connections. Not only is it a social need but a survival need.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Mid Atlantic

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Don't own anyone but any OC's...
> 
> I'm going to apologize ahead of time if I make any mistakes with military concepts and/or vocabulary. I did do some research but like writing, it's a constant work in progress. That being said, I anticipate some people to NOT like some of the plot ideas that I will have. The way I see it is: Everyone's been gone, there is no contact and 85% of the population is DEAD. The crew of the Nathan James will have to come to terms with the fact family and friends are gone since the last contact with anyone. Alex serves two purposes: Continue in the fight to find a cure and vaccine and as someone for Chandler to gravitate to. After seeing Phase Six, I realized the man needs someone who can challenge him; be his match. I have no regrets as many of you who follow me know this by now. I mean in something like this, USAMRIID would be involved.
> 
> Long story short: During a disaster where all normalcy as it was known is gone and a new reality emerges, people will forge new relationships as we, the human species, are social creatures and need emotional and physical connections. Not only is it a social need but a survival need.

_**Somewhere Mid-Atlantic** _

"How long has she been out there?"

Commander Mike Slattery craned his neck as his superior, Commander Tom Chandler, CO of the USS Nathan James approached. The steely stare fixated on the lone figure standing casually on the deck. The early morning mists shrouded her in ribbons of fine pearl as the ship cut through the opaque curtain. From the bridge, it was apparent her hands were occupied; probably coffee as it had been immediately established the Major thrived on the black tar as Mike had designated it.

"Since about day break. She came here, said good morning, then headed straight outside. She doesn't exactly look like she's been sleeping. Been the doing this for about a week." Mike's brow furrowed and nose crinkled. Temperature had to be at least 20 degrees if not colder and she was out there unfazed by the bitter air. He couldn't stand being outside for five minutes when they had been in the Arctic.

"She say anything else?" Chandler was reaching for his coat.

"You mean like spilling her feelings? Commander, this is Major Koch we are talking about right? She hasn't exactly been warm and fuzzy in the feeling department. I think she's said more to Admiral Halsey than you or I."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," he snorted with a light chuckle masked underneath. "But the last thing we need is her freezing to death or worse."

The pair exchanged a knowing glance before Chandler started for the door.

Upon pushing the watertight door open, his face was blasted with an icy greeting. He swore she was part Inuit as he sure as hell didn't want to be out there any longer than needed. Yet, she had not budged or indicated any level of discomfort.

"Major Koch," the Commander hollered upon his approach. The slender shoulders that were protected in a the thick parka shifted down then up before the upper then lower torso circled around. The hood shielded cutting sapphires that trailed his path towards her. Several strands of chocolate silk peeked from around her neck and along the fur trimming. Thinsulate gloves hugged her hands and fingers though the heat from her "black tar" as Mike had declared it transferred through the ceramic and materiel, shielding the palms from the biting cold.

"Captain," she warmly greeted with a matching smile. "Beautiful morning."

"I wouldn't call 20 degrees beautiful ma'am. Commander Slattery says you've been at this routine for a week. Something going on you'd like to share?"

Major Koch took a drink, letting the delicious blend trickle down her throat. Honestly, Mike just didn't know good coffee when he smelled it. The watered down shit he claimed was coffee was water and nothing more. She was Army and Army people thrived on extra strength caffeine.

Chandler waited until she finished off the remaining bit of her drink. He was able to catch a clearer glimpse of those piercing rings. They were lackluster and distant. Anytime he had seen her they were vibrant and always observant. Something was eating at her.

"There is no need to burden you with my problems, Captain. You have enough to sort through without taking on anything else. My problems are my problems alone."

"That's bullshit, Major."

The Major pursed her lips and looked out across the horizon. She and Rachel had worked 12 hours shifts since her arrival from Guantanamo Bay; both equally determined to develop a cure or at the very least a vaccine for what Koch nicknamed the "Ramses" strain; named after the first well known victim of smallpox, Ramses V.

"I know you're still pissed at me but I was going to tell you everything." Her eyes watered as she bit hard on her bottom lip. "Tell me you understand why I did it. Please..."

Chandler exhaled then closed the distance between them. Pissed, yes he was as Rachel had been silent about what was going on during the initial four month "mission" they had been assigned to in the Arctic. Studying arctic terns his ass. Silent about the fact the "Ramses" strain was quickly rising as a world health crisis in which 85% of the population of the human race was erased off the face of the Earth with thousands more falling ill with every passing day. Then came that day in Cuba.

And everything changed.

No one could've imagined a microbiologist/immunologist, let alone one from the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases or USAMRIID, was alive and well living with a rag tag group in the jungles surrounding the former American base dodging and taking pot shots at Al Qaeda prisoners. Yet, Major Alexandra "Alex" Koch was standing mere feet from him on the deck of the last hope for humanity holding a casual conversation.

"Yeah, I was angry but I can see why now. You were acting in a manner appropriate given the circumstances. Perhaps I was too harsh."

"I-I didn't know who I could trust. The Russians are still out there and they know about me thanks to that turncoat. They won't stop until they have everything including Rachel, and myself. I'll die before I give those assholes anything. I'll burn my research, notes, computer; everything and anything that would empower those sons of bitches."

_I know everything about you, about Major Koch, Dr. Scott, and your mission...You won't win_

"Tell us how you really feel about them?" Another rare smile crossed his lips. This time, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. A few peeks of light cracked the listless pair.

"I think you got an idea already. I loathed them when I was active duty and I loathe them even more so now." A thin puff of air swirled around her lips and nose which had turned rosy. "I suppose play time is over. Besides, you look like you need to thaw your ass out."

With empty mug in one hand, she started back, feeling the weight of his eyes following her. The heavy footfalls fell in cadence with her light tread; strange how that happened. She paused then turned her attention upward, flashing a brief wave up to Mike who was vigilant on the bridge.

"Oh and one more thing," Chandler nearly walked into his shorter companion as they reached the first door. "Sorry about grabbing the radio from you and pissing the Russians off. But that son of a bitch really grated on my nerves and I don't regret what I did."

"I know you don't but don't ever do that again." The seriousness in his tone sent a shiver down her spine but it wasn't a shiver of fear.

"Understood," she nodded and took a few more steps only to be halted by his hand cuffed around her bicep. Guilt underlay the stern look.

"Was it because I was angry?" The Captain's voice dropped as though there were others nearby. But there wasn't.

His question took her aback. Alex felt his hand release her and she hugged herself hard, then slowly nodded her head.

"Yeah," she shut her eyes pressing a lone tear out. "For the last, however long it's been, I've been so hard and cold. Any sensation or feeling I suppressed. Survival was what mattered. The only person who saw anything that resembled emotion from me was Tex. Then your team arrived and for the first time since the world collapsed we felt...I felt hope. Knowing we stood a chance to fight this sparked life in me. Some of the crew have come to me, asking if it's true. I want to tell them it is but what if what we saw was a fluke? What if no one responds like I did?"

Alex shifted and leaned her left side against the wall. Mentally she was grateful for the thermal underwear under the cargo pants.

"You can't think that way Major. If you did you wouldn't be pushing yourself like you have been."

Before she could respond he shot a finger up. "Still speaking Major."

Her hands shot up in surrender.

"As much as a pain in the ass as you have been from time to time, you and Dr. Scott have the gratitude and sincere thank you of everyone on board. We couldn't have survived the outbreak without you. Everything is uncertain now. It's uncharted waters from here. "

"Well thank you, Commander but it's all uncharted waters for everyone. But, I do have to say you sparked that life back in me; the dedication you see was you snapping me back. I should be thanking you." There, she said it. Alex felt the burden being thrown off her chest. Chandler was clearly surprised as the shock was written across his face. Her heart was hammering violently against her ribs. Adrenaline was saturating her nerves, igniting a light trembling that even her clothing couldn't conceal. "Oh shit, I said something wrong."

"No, no you didn't," he gripped the handle and turned it right hearing it groan then yield. "But let's continue this inside."

* * *

 

Both continued further into the ship, away from the main flurry of activity and personnel that kept the James running. Alex didn't realize how numb her face had become until the sharp stinging slapped her face and ears. Being a part of the action had acclimated her to the ways of getting around small spaces that accompanied a naval destroyer. Luckily, her slender frame provided access of ease in tight corridors, narrow hatches and doors where she had laughed behindMike's back when he lumbered through the same areas. A little humor didn't hurt and he had snickered after she smacked her head on the top of one of the doors not too long ago. Well, that was after she was cleared from the ship's doc then he laughed.

Her thoughts ceased once Chandler stopped in front of the door to his cabin.

"Here?" She anxiously scanned both ways of the corridor, looking for anyone that may happen upon them.

"No one will barge in," he stated in a matter of fact tone. "And honestly if anyone sees you come or go they won't question."

"Except for Mike," Alex stepped in and closed the door behind her.

"I can assure you, he won't say anything."

"That's right. I think he and Rachel have been rather chummy," Alex grinned from ear to ear. Finally, there was that brilliant smile. He watched her relax and slip the heavy parka off, draping it over the chair. Her comfortable attire of black long sleeved shirt and tan utility pants showed the toned frame she worked hard to maintain. Her army issued uniform had been lost after the crash. The chain peeked around the back of her neck, keeping the dog and toe tag close to her heart. And to complete it, her military ID lightly bumped on her right hip.

The air thickened with the passing moments until it turned unbearable.

They rushed in until their bodies crashed into one another. Her face buried into his chest, smothering her senses with the aftershave he used. How easy it would be to fall asleep right then and there. The strong arms clad protectively around her, the same arms that had held a high powered rifle at her heart upon first meeting. The scent of the standard shampoo tickled his senses despite the industrial tint. One hand carded through her hair as the other rested in the center of her back.

Damn it felt good just standing there, clinging to one another. She slowly pushed back, cupping her hand across the back of his neck. It was cool to the touch, on account of his time spent on deck. He didn't resist the urgent pressure, yielding until their mouths were locked together. Her lips were silk compared to his lightly chapped ones but she didn't care. His hands could be ice but so long as she could hold them she was content.

"No more secrets," he regrettably pulled back but tenderly gripped the sides of her face with his hands. The pained expression ringed his handsome features. "No more. After what you pulled-"

"No; no you're right. Honestly I didn't intend to ignite any panic but I had to do it. I had to see if it worked," she had to make this right; make it right with him. "Everything is on the table. Everything about the Ramses strain, what my work is," Alex stopped. Fear was creeping up but where could she run? She was on a naval destroyer out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

No more secrets.

Determination gathered like a summer storm.

"How I feel...feel about you." Her voice stuttered and trailed as her courage fled.

No taking it back now. She would have to live with the repercussions good or bad. And based on the blank stare she was receiving, it was appearing to be pointing towards the latter. Chandler simply blinked with no indication of reaction. Neither one had been prepared for this. Hell, they weren't sure what it was they had but were sure of one thing: The feelings were genuine, not based on hollow physical needs as some of her past relationships had been built around.

"You're not talking," Alex felt like a fool. Her ears burned and didn't have to be told the flush hue fanning across her cheeks and neck. "And I just shoved my boot in my mouth. Shit. Shit."

The sudden jerking and pulling in his embrace snapped Chandler from his trance. Alex continued struggling to get free, desperate to run away from this; from him. Instinctively his arms fastened around her waist, holding fast against her surprising strength. His legs braced then pushed into the tile, anchoring both in place.

"What are you doing?" A little tighter his hold became.

"Doing what I do best! Fucking up!" The tops of her knuckles slammed his hip but Chandler was undeterred. "Just let me go."

"No. Who said anything about you fucking up?" The battle waned but he sensed her body remained tense, prepared to take off in flight. She was beginning to fatigue.

"You're not saying anything that's what." Alex gave one final push of energy before letting reality set in: Chandler was stronger and he was keeping her there.

"Because I haven't had a chance to Alex that's why. Now stop fighting me." Chandler slackened his hold enough for her to turn around. Her eyes were bleary with pencil thin trails of crimson crossing the whites. "First, you haven't done or said anything wrong. It's just..."

"Just what? Remember, no more secrets?"

Chandler stepped back until the backs of his legs bumped the edge of metal frame. The heat of his palms caressed her cheeks as he fought to find the right words. He watched as her smaller ones covered his.

"It's just after everything that's happened: The pandemic, the secrecy..."

"You're unsure; I get it. When we first met at Guantanamo, you had a gun pointed at me because you thought I was a terrorist. Not the best way to start off I know. Then news from home. Then-"

"I'm not."

"Then what's wrong? Look if you want to-" Alex began but was silenced with the plea of his mouth upon hers. A subtle moan passed her lips and spread along his. Her legs were turning weak, threatening to buckle when the slick warmth of his tongue pleaded to be let in. She happily obliged, parting her lips and shivering at the sensation of it sliding along hers, taking in the sweet sensation igniting in her nerves. Her toes curled in the boots and gooseflesh pebbled her skin.

"No," He severed the burning connection. His hot breath danced across her face and neck. He shut his eyes and pressed his forehead lightly to hers. "I can't. I won't. I've already lost so much."

He leaned in again, catching her lips with his, this time with a passion that he didn't know existed; or had been denying. It didn't matter now. Alex felt as though her very soul was being swept away, claimed with one simple act. She pushed, he pulled, giving and taking until they stumbled then collapsed to the berth behind them. Their mouths never severed, carrying on in their intimate dance, quickly racing into an urgent fervor as they battled the other for control.

"Not angry at me anymore I see," she pulled back, panting hard between her words. The sly grin playing over her lips. Chandler was breathing hard but absently shook his head, consumed by the storm of lust that had swept over him. The soft tip of tongue darted over his lips before diving in and attacking the light tan neck. Her hand reached out, stroking the back of his neck, encouraging him on as soft kisses and nips trailed down just above her collarbone. A hitched breath was music to his ears, telling him he was doing something right. The sudden sharp grip on his light gray blonde locks caused him to hiss and pause.

"Sorry," Alex groaned and rolled her hips across his. The iron hold slackened to a tender carding across the scalp. How long had it been? Christ, too long for either apparently as the tell tale bulge dug into her right hip. He felt her back arching up, pressing their lower bodies deeper together, rubbing the thin cotton layer against him. Their bodies shook with adrenaline as hands groped and massaged, driving them closer to their breaking points. Chandler fisted the hem of her shirt, tugging it upward in short needy jerks. Her torso was smooth with a few moles dotting the pale surface.

"Beautiful," he breathed into her bellybutton.

"Oh my god," his calloused fingers turned to silk, fanning over the sensitive flesh. "Tom..."

Alex struggled with her boots, growling in irritation. "Goddamn boots!" It would be boots that stood between them and sating the hunger withing.

"Wait," she propped up on her elbows to see the boots falling off and landing with a equal dull thuds. Before returning to her, Chandler toed his off, relieved at the alleviation.

"Better," he exhaled. Before returning, he unfastened the uniform top, draping it over the chair. Alex playfully rolled her eyes at his display. "Get over here," she crooked a finger. "That's an order." The straight face cracked. She started to sit up only to have him guide her back down. The mattress shifted under their weight but it was surprisingly comfortable given his cabin wasn't the Ritz.

"Tom, are you sure?" Her conscious breached the surface. He lifted his head and attacked her neck with his hands unfastening the brass buttons and zipper.

"Positive," he purred in her ear. "I've moved on, I know what I want, and I know who I want." He lifted up, peeling away the cobalt colored shirt. Despite being on the water for over a year, his body was still a sight in its own. The bars rippling down before vanishing under the hem of the navy issued pants.

"You're out of uniform," she teased.

"You're not," he tugged the cargo pants down until they were pooled at the foot of the bunk. He hurriedly discarded his pants, leaving the black boxers on. He dove in, devouring her mouth with urgency. He wanted to feel nothing between them. The tension had been simmering, slowly rising until they couldn't deny it any longer.

Her legs hooked around his waist, keeping him flush to her body. She wanted to feel him, all of him.

"Wait," she snapped her head back. "Is there...Do you..."

He knew what she was indicating. Damn it! They couldn't...

"No," and there went the moment. "Shit." He shook his head in partial disappointment.

"Hey," Alex cupped his face. "It's alright." She sighed but he knew she was as equally dismayed.

"Damn," he cursed with frustration. After losing his family and feeling lost inside, his heart was thrown into keeping the men and women on the James safe. Now he found himself letting another in and someone letting him in.

"Hey," feathery caresses fanned across his cheek and neck. Concern tainted the sparkling sapphires. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he collected the wandering hand, pressing a sweet kiss in the center of the palm. "Just thinking that's all."

"Really? Please do tell."

Chandler positioned himself behind her, allowing Alex to roll around until she was facing him. She nuzzled into his neck, placing a light kiss against the cool skin. He kissed her forehead and basked in her presence. It was then it hit him: He had fallen for her.

"I was hanging on to what remained of the old world when what and who I needed now has been right in front of me."

Alex was lost for words.

He just nodded and stole a kiss from her. Instead of words, he hoped this would express what he wanted to say. It was soft and tender, lingering across her lips even as he slowly pulled back. He brought her closer until their bodies were flush with one another.

"You think we'll find a home?"

"I don't know Lex," he used his nickname for her which he used when they were alone. "Everywhere we've tried it's been in vain."

"They won't stop until they get us." She shivered in fear. "Can't let them win Tom."

"We won't," he kissed the top of her head. "I won't let them get you or Rachel."

"She isn't a bad person. I worked with her and she's damn good at what she does. Yes she can be a bit of stiff ass Brit but that's part of her charm I can assure you."

"I'll take your word for it Lex." He sensed her beginning to relax against him with deep steady breaths; finally, she was falling asleep. He had been inwardly anxious over her insomniac like behavior as of recently. Some days she was walking in a half sleep or when she did stay in his cabin, he would awaken late in the night to find her pacing or reading something off the shelf. The Doc attempted to get her to take the sleep aid he suggested but she would only proverbially slap his hand and tell him to save it for someone who needed it more than her.

_Sorry, I can't sleep. I didn't want to wake you up._

On those nights he would remain awake, holding her, praying she would sleep.

Then there were the night terrors.

The first one had been debilitating.

After the initial encounter with the Russians was when it occurred. She wouldn't talk about them; claiming they eluded her after she awakened. He didn't dare pry as she would shut down. Instead, he resigned to keeping her close, letting the latest chapter of her internal Hell play out as he looked on, helpless to do anything. When she came to, he would be there with either a hand running soothingly over her back or through her tousled hair. Words of comfort were all he could give. Sometimes her eyes would be watery or bloodshot as though she had been crying. Another time her body was trembling.

Rachel had caught wind of her colleague's suffering and offered to step up.

_Alex, I can do it. You're tired and stressed. You need to rest._

_NO! I can't let you carry the burden Rachel! I'll take more breaks or go straight to quarters after my rounds. It's not fair to you to pick up the slack because I have a few nightmares._

The argument ended there.

* * *

 

"Commander!" Lieutenant Granderson hollered from the far right of the bridge. Mike hurried over to where the lieutenant was, following the finger that was pointed out to the south. He quickly retrieved the binoculars, allowing his sight to get a better view of the approaching vessel.

His heart pounded as he instantly knew what they were seeing.

"Get the Captain now!" Mike sounded the alarm as the crew rushed around him, manning their battle stations. Men rushed outside with their high powered weapons as the five inch deck gun was readied. Master Chief was barking orders over the comm, preparing the crew for the battle that lay ahead.

* * *

 

Chandler awakened to the sound of the comm blaring overhead and jumped to the floor.

"Mike," he grabbed the phone. "What the Hell is going on?"

_"It's the Russians. They somehow found us."_

"Shit," he cursed with venom. "I'm on my way."

"No, we're on our way," Alex was sitting upright pulling up the cargo pants and reaching for her boots.

* * *

 

Mike saw the burning hatred in Alex's eyes as she approached. Chandler was in battle mode, focused on what was less than 10 nautical miles away.

"Those fuckers don't give up." She looked to Mike who offered a sympathetic look. "How did they find us!? We did everything to shake them."

"I don't know how Alex but they did."

_"Ahoy, Captain Chandler."_

The nasal Russian accent contaminated the airwaves. Alex bristled with fists balled tightly at her hips.

" _Did you think you could vanish? Aw, such arrogance that is typical with you Americans."_

"Man I hate this guy," Mike muttered beneath his breath. "He doesn't shut up."

"He never knew when to that's the problem," Alex shook her head. Her attention was on Chandler whose jaw was clenched tight. He was pissed.

_"I know Major Koch and Dr. Scott are there. Your ploy in Brazil, I must confess, was well played. Congratulations on your deception. But the time for games has past."_

"This is Commander Chandler," Tom finally spoke.

_"Ah Commander Chandler. I was beginning to wonder about you. Now, please do hand over the scientists and research. We will sink you."_

"Again, we will NOT turn over Dr. Scott, Major Koch, or the research." He looked to Lieutenant Granderson and nodded. "Get the guns ready."

"Sir," the young officer barked his orders. Comms Officer Mason quickly relayed the latest command to the decks below. Alex watched as they readied for retaliation. Lieutenant Foster monitored the radar, tracking their enemy's movements. The clicking of keys and chorus of voices and relaying of information drowned out into the background. It was a hand that fell firmly on her shoulder that pulled Alex back.

"You don't look so good Major," CMC Jeter had caught the panic stricken expression.

"Understatement Master Chief," Alex whispered hoarsely. "I feel goddamn sick." She shook her head as if it would abolish the churning in her stomach. "But I'm not leaving."

He knew what that really meant.

_Not leaving the Captain_

"Understood; but if you need to-" A hand shot up to ear level.

"I know Master Chief. But I won't let nerves do me in. I faced down Level 4 agents on a daily basis with only a suit and hose that stood between Ebola, Marburg, HIV, smallpox, and me. I won't let the Russians scare me."

"Alright then," he patted her shoulder then leaned in so no one else could hear, "I can see why he feels the way he does."

"If I can be of assistance Master Chief," Alex covered.

_"You have one hour to decide Captain or else we will take what we want by force and sink your ship."_

"Son of a bitch," Chandler turned to see Alex standing alongside him. "He's so full of himself."

Chandler snorted lightly as he pressed the button.

"We have your answer and it's NO."

A few tense moments passed before they heard the grating voice respond.

_"I am SO disappointed in you Captain. I thought we could resolve this in a civilized manner. Your choice of action has left us no other option."_

"I hope you have something up that sleeve of yours Major." Chandler looked coolly towards her.

"I may have something," she flashed a brief tiny smile. "I didn't read The Art of War for nothing. Always know thy enemy Captain."

He watched her rush from the bridge, knowing she was racing towards the lab. Whatever she was thinking he prayed worked as prayers were all they had left.


	2. Welcome to Gitmo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year prior........
> 
> The search for supplies leads the the team to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. What they find is more than dead bodies, fuel, and food.

_**Jungles surrounding Guantanamo Bay, Cuba...** _

_**One year earlier...** _

The dense gathering of bushes, underbrush, and foliage provided the perfect camouflage. Ahead, lay the prey. A lone gunman leisurely strolling the outer perimeter just beyond the food warehouse. Sharp ice an hard brown stalked the figure as he kept his weapon, an AK-47 procured from one of their deceased comrades, across his chest. A second scoured the wreckage of the KC-135, scavenging for parts or anything else that could be fashioned into an IED or other nasty fiery shrapnel packed surprise for them.

Some things never changed.

The man glanced at his partner, feeling the hatred literally radiating from her as she crouched to the ground. The humidity lifted from the soil, taking form in beads of sweat along her forehead and forearms. The sand colored shirt and desert fatigue pants allowed her to blend into the environment. The thick carpet of mocha was tightened back in a ponytail, offering some relief from the tropical steaminess. Military style shades masked her eyes but didn't block her sight. He was clad in similar pants with a long sleeved navy blue shirt, bulletproof vest, and army green hat with US flag in light olive to cover his head. A spare Glock was strapped to his right thigh, loaded with spare clip in his pocket. Attached to her left thigh was a 7 inch combat utility knife that had shed blood twice since her "arrival" to Cuba. The right thigh was occupied with a Baretta M9 with three rounds left. He held an M4 Carbine in his hands, mindful of where the muzzle was directed.

"Cover me," she whispered hoarsely before darting closer towards the tree line. Every muscle cell in her quads and hamstrings screamed in protest as she remained close to the ground. But that was the point: Element of surprise.

"Wait," he clasped a hand on her shoulder. "How do we know it's not a trap?"

Her eyes shot towards him, narrowing at his inquiry. "We don't Tex. We don't. How many do we have left?"

"15 more counting these ass bags." Tex paused, taking a deep thick breath. The air was choking, one of the things he loathed about Cuba. But the money had won out over every reservation or hesitation he held. Guarding Al Qaeda prisoners in a section far from the main part of the base while never seeing a single flake of snow again was pretty sweet in that right.

But then the Pandemic reached Cuban shores.

It had started out with a few sailors arriving from Miami then exploded and fanned out like a wildfire in Yellowstone. Everyone was consumed within days. Doctors and nurses dropped dead alongside the patients they had battled to save. Personnel soon followed, falling like toy soldiers. The rest fled, leaving him and 5 other guards with the special inmates.

That had been a month ago.

Now, only he and the Major remained. Though knowing what was running through her mind, he worried it was only going to be him.

"I'll take Beavis if you distract Butthead." She said with an evil smile.

"You're insane you know that?" He growled but out of concern.

"Nah, this is nothing." Her eyes never broke sight of the targets. "I did two tours in Afghanistan and one mission to Columbia for a viral hemorrhagic fever outbreak. The cartel in the area didn't like us snooping around their fields..."

"What did you do!?"

The grin widened. "I don't like it when my work is interrupted or threatened."

"Shit," Tex shook his head. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," a light chuckle tickled her throat. Tex watched her slender form melt into the leaves. Sighing, he stalked to the right, towards Butthead. Somewhere to his left, the Major was closing in like a leopard.

Beavis had no idea what was coming. All he was concerned with was making sure they scavenged the wreck of the plane and then making more explosives. Those two Americans had been successful in eluding them. He wanted nothing more than to watch that bitch be dispatched straight to Hell with one of his creations. His eyes scoured the tree line, peering hard for anything or anyone. Fools they were for letting he and his fellow fighters go. Pity is a weakness that is to be exploited. He did another scan of the immediate area, noticing his partner had disappeared inside the plane. He wasn't alarmed as they held the supremacy in numbers and weapons.

The blow was swift and precise.

The rock crushed the back of his skull, sending him face down into the protruding branch at his boots. His vision had exploded, brightened to the point of blurring everything around him upon impacting his forehead to the rigid root. He reached out and behind him, finding his fingers dabbing the thick crimson which sprung from the gaping wound at the base. He attempted to yell for help but the sudden slap of a gloved hand over his mouth muffled his pathetic pleas.

"Time to meet your god," the feminine voice cruelly taunted him. The other hand clamped on his forehead, clamping down like a vise. Then moving in perfect rhythm, they fired with a strength that surprised him, violently jerking his head up and right.

The last sound he heard in life was the cracking of four vertebrae playing out a macabre tune.

She disgustedly dropped the head and went to searching the body, taking her time as the short pop pop to her right told her what she needed.

Clips, AK-47, more rounds, pocket knife, and a few odd metallic pieces she suspected were destined to be another booby trap. She hurried and pocketed everything useful, tossing the rest into the trees. With a short nod of satisfaction, the Major grabbed the wrists and dragged the body into the underbrush.

"Let the wildlife have a free meal." She huffed and found a spot at the base of a large banana tree. Unceremoniously she deposited the lanky form and began to turn away but stopped. Her face darkened then contorted into a hateful sneer. An angry bellow echoed as she pivoted around and kicked her boot into the chest over and over.

"You son of a bitch!" Her feet switched off, taking turns at issuing additional injury. "I hope you rot in HELL!"

Her rage boiled over, buffering her hearing from the approaching boots.

"Major," Tex clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Major, snap out of it!" His pleas repeated as she raged on, refusing to let go just yet.

"This is for Dave you asshole," a final blow cracked the sternum. She was panting; on account of the Cuban weather. Tex took a step back, allowing her to straighten up and readjust her hair. Her face was beet red and damp with a wild look in her eye.

"Major you alright?" She nodded and wiped her nose with the back of her glove. "Yeah, I had to purge some frustration."

"I can see that," he frowned. "The other one is dead. Bastard tried to stab me with a 6 inch blade but I turned it on him."

"Good," she collected her spoils. "Let's get back to base. I've had enough dealing with assholes for one day."

"You're not the only one," she let him collect her in a comforting hug. "Still think you're crazy."

"Yeah but that craziness took out two more ass bags."

He couldn't but help to laugh at that. It was deep hearty laugh; one that you let go at a party with friends who telling a good joke or story while standing outside throwing back cheap beers.

"What would you do without me?" She teased.

Before Tex could give a comeback, the chopping sound caused both to look up and to the south. It was a chopper. It was slowly circumventing the area, searching for anyone who may be alive, either ignoring the wreckage of the plane or took note and carried on.

"That's a Navy hilo," the Major observed. Where there was a chopper there had to be a ship and a ship meant people.

"Which means there's a naval ship at the docks."

"Tex, if we could see it..." Joy soured to dread.

"Yep and they'll be sending a welcoming party for them. We need to haul ass."

* * *

 

XO Mike Slattery was unsure of himself.

Tom was gearing up to lead the group responsible for scouting the food warehouse while one team, led by Chief Engineer Garnett would refuel the ship, and the third, led by Lieutenant Green would gather supplies, if any remained, for Dr. Scott and Dr. Tophet to continue their work. Could he make the tough calls if the need arose? Could he make the right choice under pressure!? 200 men and women would depend on him until the captain returned.

He couldn't shake the feeling something was very wrong. He couldn't put it to words but the unsettling in his chest and stomach were enough. He warned Green to remain frosty, expressing his uncertainties. The idea the CO was going out into god knows what or who else was waiting there was racking. Why did Tom have to be so goddamn adamant about going out? What if something happened to him!? Mike wiped his brow and fought back the rising bile in the back of his throat. No, he couldn't let his fears and insecurities get the better of him. He had enough vying for his attention including the mistrust he harbored in the pair from the CDC. For four months they knowingly deceived and lied to them about the true nature of their mission. While the crew had maintained silent for four months which included NO contact with family, thus being in the dark about the spreading pandemic, she had a goddamn satellite phone and was in touch with the homeland freely for four months! Frankly, his opinion was they should be the ones going out to fetch their own goddamn supplies and equipment instead of their men!

But Tom had made it very clear: Scott and Tophet were not to leave the safety of the ship.

All he could do was assume command as the three teams made their ways towards their respective objectives.

_"Nathan James this is Vulture One; we're approaching the South Gate."_

* * *

 

Tex and the Major sprinted towards the gates, ignoring the burning in their legs and chests. All those years of running and training were coming to fruition as she steadily outpaced Tex by at least two strides.

"You go towards the Humvee and I'll cover you!" She angled left, retreating into one of the abandoned buildings as he raced towards the perimeter fences. They had seen movement from the south, a team of six that was making its way towards the vehicle. Tex hurried, cursing the fact he had not given up smoking sooner. At least the Major was at her perch.

The Major watched as the new arrivals stalked cautiously around the abandoned Suburban and pick up then around a few burned shells of vehicles she couldn't identify. The instant gunfire caused her to stiffen and follow the source. One of the men, the youngest of the foursome, had lit up a 55 gallon drum because of birds. His reward was an ass ripping from another man. Ouch, that looked like it may have stung a little.

"Come on Tex," she kept one eye glued to the scope. She had the mind to stash the sniper rifle left behind by the military guards. There was no way she was going to let those bastards get their hands on it. Her breathing was level despite the rising tension below. The lead man had froze, whipping his right arm up in signaling to stop. He had seen something: the dead man in the Humvee. They were reaching for something; masks. They were going for their masks because of the body that had been strategically placed on the driver's side. They think it's an infected corpse but they're wrong!

"I'M AN AMERICAN! GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE! GET THE HELL OUTTA THERE!"

Tex hurried down the walkway with weapon held over his head, weaving around the gates and enclosures.

The team froze with weapons drawn at her friend. She focused on who she assumed was the leader of the little expedition: An older man with silver blonde hair peeking out from the helmet. He was now positioned in front of the others by a few feet, rigid in his stance. Something about him screamed "I'm in charge here!"

Before they could fire or even shout a command, the Humvee was blasted. The IED detonated, sending debris into the air then showering around the team including her. Metal twisted under the immense heat as the force of the blast molded the vehicle under its will. Chandler and his team were thrown to the ground, stunning them for a few moments. There was a ringing that perpetrated his hearing, muffling the continuous shouts of protest coming from the stranger. His skin was burning from the heat of the flames and shrapnel that cascaded through the air. Smoke smothered their noses and lungs with putrid acrid plumes.

"Nathan James this is Vulture One; we're under attack by an unknown number of hostiles." His radio worked thankfully despite it taking a beating on account of Chandler's fall. His feet were rocky as he willed his body to obey. "Stand by for firing order." He coughed between his words.

* * *

 

"Shit," she rolled over and grabbed the helmet by the stand. "Amir outdid himself this time." She covered the back of her neck with her gloved hands with face downward into the roof.

* * *

 

"Stop right there! BACK UP!" Chandler rose to his feet, shaking off the nerves and shouted with gun up and pointed. Burk and Miller followed his lead, keeping weapons up and ready. Each were shaky from the adrenaline that fed into their veins; a natural reaction to a high stress situation.

"Take it easy! We're NOT sick including the ass bags who tried to kill you! We're on your side damn it!" Tex froze, continuing to hold his gun over his head. "Don't shoot! For the love of God! We're not goddamn hostiles!"

"Stay there!" Burk hollered echoing his CO. Miller, the youngest and greenest of the group, just mimicked the actions of the others. The man was wearing a bulletproof vest and hat with US flag and had saved their asses. Surely he had to be telling the truth...Right?

"You said 'we'." Chandler looked but didn't see anyone else.

"Yeah that's right, Commodore," Tex ripped his shades off. "The Major and I are the only two left." He whistled sharply. "Major come down!"

The team turned their heads in sync, catching the approach of the Major.

"Gentlemen, meet Major Alexandra Koch, United States Army." He added a thin smile as all members of the team didn't hide their surprise. The Major was a woman! And not a bad looking one either.

She walked tall, keeping her weapon pointed down with hands elevated and collapsed on top of her head with fingers laced tightly together. The shades were tight to her nose despite rolling around the jungle and the top of building 28. Chandler raised an eyebrow but said nothing. What in the HELL was an officer doing at Gitmo? It wasn't by accident.

"Gentlemen," she paused and kept her hands planted to her head. "We're not infected. We've been away from the Gitmo Hot Zone; well us and-"

"The ass bags that left you the housewarming present." Tex finished her words. "What you saw was what was left of my best friend. Originally there were six of us; private subcontractors working security on the high profile inmates."

"Who are the ass bags?" Chandler didn't move, keeping his distance.

"Al Qaeda," the Major answered. "That would be Amir's handiwork you saw."

"You're just now telling us this?!" Chandler snarled at the pair. The Major frowned but remained silent.

"You're the one asking the questions," Tex shrugged. "About three of them peeled out with rocket launchers towards your ship. The rest spread out around the food warehouse."

_"Nathan James this is Vulture One. You have multiple hostiles heading towards the rig. I repeat, multiple hostiles en route to the rigs with RPGs."_

"I told you it was a  _ **bad**_ idea letting those douchebags out. Saying I told you so just doesn't feel like enough." The Major rubbed it in. The majority ruled despite her vocal protests about letting them out. It didn't matter the world was in the grip of a pandemic that made the Great Influenza of 1918 look like the common cold! All their narrow minds registered was the status quo: Kill Westerners.

"They turned on you," Chandler looked up after relaying the warning to the James.

"Yeah and I told them don't do it because they would." She shook her head.

"Should've listened to the lady," Chandler chided Tex who shrugged.

"We figured since there was no government, no politics, or order it was the least we could do."

Anxious glances were traded before Chandler spoke up. "You two, come slowly towards us."

"Follow my lead," the Major took small timid steps. Tex kept up or rather had to slow down. "Tex, go slow. These guys will pump you full of rounds."

"Such a comforting thought," he muttered.

"Now stay there," Chandler motioned for the others to lower their weapons. The Major and Tex halted, weapon remaining in a neutral position as her hands stayed up. Her heart was pounding into her ribs but showing fear was weakness.

"Now it's our turn to ask a question," she looked pointedly at Chandler. "Who are you?"

"CO Tom Chandler, Commander of the USS Nathan James." He started towards them, extending a hand for the Major who accepted. Her grip was strong. "Major Alexandra Koch, USAMRIID."

"What's USAMRIID?" Burk blurted.

"United States Army Research Institute of Infectious Diseases; I was en route back to Bethesda when the plane I was in took a small nose dive on the outskirts of Gitmo."

"Wait," Chandler's interested peaked. "You're a scientist?"

"Actually, I'm a microbiologist and immunologist. I was on assignment in Guiana."

"You know about the virus?" His voice cracked.

"Know about it? I work in a Biolevel 4 facility and study the damn thing. Well I was." She quickly corrected herself. "Everything I had was destroyed; samples, supplies, and equipment. The cargo hold took the brunt of the fire." Her eyes shifted down, blankly looking at the toes of her boots then back up. "Tex pulled my ass out of the wreckage before the rest turned into an inferno."

Tex affectionately patted her shoulder.

"Here," one hand went up as the other slowly slid into her pocket and retrieved the ID card. "This is proof; in case any of you have your doubts. But I could provide my serial number upon request."

Chandler accepted the credential, noting the name and rank as she claimed. There was no way this was a falsified card. The bar code on the back was issued that way before being repositioned on the front.

"Major," he passed it back. "We would love to have both of your services on the James."

"I'm not sure how I'll be of help Commander." The Major shook her head doubtfully. "I don't have a lab or anything to continue my work."

"That can be arranged," he offered a thin smile. "It so happens we have two CDC scientists on board with a lab."

"You're bullshitting me right?"

"No ma'am; Dr. Scott and Dr. Tophet have been with us since the beginning."

"Doctor Rachel Scott?" A gleam of recognition ignited in her eyes. It was the first time Chandler noticed how striking they were. Shimmering orbs reminiscent of the waters that hugged the Keys.

"You know her?"

"I worked with her in the past," the Major picked her gun back up, checking the magazine with a nod of self approval.

"Alright I think we've had enough social time," Chandler looked to Tex. "You said there were more? Where are they?"

"Warehouse where the food is. It's the new women and children for them. They're going to want us go in after them."

"Some things NEVER change." The Major sighed followed behind Tex.

* * *

 

"So tell me what you know about the virus?" Chandler kept a watchful eye as they marched towards the inner part of the base.

"Makes the 1918 Pandemic look like a cakewalk. It's highly contagious and very communicable. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." She shook her head. "Before I wound up here, I had been able to isolate at least 6 strains from the mutations the virus endured. However, the strain killing off everyone is different. Someone played God; in a big way. Whoever did it, knew exactly what they were doing."

The Major abruptly halted, signaling for the others to wait. Tex dropped to a crouch, scouting for any hostiles. With a short wave, the rest joined him, walking the security fences that ringed the warehouse.

"I think Amir wants our heads on pikes" the Major snorted. "I mean we did take out his second in command."

"He had it coming, Major. He had it coming."

Chandler listened to the pair ahead of him. These two knew how to hold their own from what he had eavesdropped on. Luckily for the James, she was about receive two valuable assets.

"Commander," Miller had spotted a body hanging from the fence. The Major and Tex rushed up, learning of their missing comrade's fate.

"Bastards!"

"Animals!"

Tex started for the warehouse, anger burning in his belly. The Major wasn't too far behind. The poor bastard was strung up like a trophy; his hands bound by wire with throat slashed, allowed to bleed out like a pig at slaughter. The once pristine white was soiled with drying blood that stiffened the fabric as it dried in the merciless heat.

"Stop!" Burk and Chandler obstructed their paths with the latter latching a hand on the Major's bicep. She glared incredulously from behind the shades. "They're expecting you to rush in there half cocked. Don't fall for it. You'll get your chance for revenge."

"Then let's go," Tex took lead again.

* * *

 

The production kitchen was void of any guards. But it didn't mean there weren't any hidden surprises.

Tex scouted the initial pathways, deducing which would be the route their targets would take. The rest of the team swept their weapons over the vast space of industrial sized gas stoves, convection ovens, steel kettle pots, and refrigerators. The walk in cooler lay in the northeast corner with the freezer adjacent to it. Rotted food emulated from behind the thick steel door, haunting their senses with each tiny step forward. Sunlight streamed through the skylights and the few windows that existed. It was the perfect arena for IEDs and Al Qaeda. Tex made a brief hand gesture with his fingers, highlighting the best means of navigation. Chandler attempted to maneuver around then in front of the Major but she countered with a rapid pivot replacing herself behind the contractor.

_Damn it Major! Get your ass between Burk and I!_

He silently cursed but didn't attempt to surpass her again.

The doors leading to the belly of the beast were still. Chandler took the right flank as Burk assumed the left. The Major lined up behind the Commander with Tex behind Burk. She passed a mirror to Chandler, who accepted the primitive surveillance tool. He painstakingly slid a hand between the gaps, shifting his hand like a car side mirror. So far no sightings.

Chandler allowed Tex to enter first with him then Burk, Miller, and the Major bringing up the rear. They split up in teams of three, each sweeping the first aisle they encountered. From the corner of her eye, the Major caught Chandler sneaking a glimpse of her position then rounding a corner.

"Where are-" before Miller finished the Major slapped a hand over his mouth.

As if on cue, gunfire rang out in front of them. Chandler and Burk crouched down, taking out the first two hidden on the top level and middle level. Bullets punctured the plastic drums of cooking oil but small price. Cases of dried beans and rice exploded as shells ripped apart burlap and dried good alike. The Major and Tex had vanished. Son of a bitch!

Chandler snapped his head left to see the gun raised at him. As he started to raise his, the Major darted behind him, kicking the back of his legs in. Her hands palmed the skull and in a perfect execution, snapped the neck. She released the body in disgust, catching the Commander watching from behind the stack of oats. She could read his expression but suspected he was surprised and relieved from her show.

"Holy shit," he whispered before going after the rest. The Major drew her Glock, sending two rounds between the eyes and in the throat of one. The gunfire started waning but who was winning she couldn't tell. Then it went silent.

"Hey Commodore," she heard Tex call out. The Major ducked behind some pallets of cereal, finding she was behind the remaining Al Qaeda inmates. They had Tex at gunpoint.

* * *

 

"Vulture One this is Nathan James; what's your status report?"

XO Slattery waited for a reply. Nothing.

"Vulture One this is Nathan James. What is your status report?"

_"Nathan James this is Vulture One. We're in the middle of a hostage negotiation."_

_"Who are you talking to!?"_ The South Asian or Arabic accented voice demanded.

_"My ship. If I don't reply they'll panic and start shelling the building."_

_"You don't talk to them anymore! You talk to me now!"_

"Get the gun ready! He wants a distraction." Slattery pointed towards Nishioka who was already issuing the command to the computer. The gun whirled back to life, shifting 45 degrees towards the direction of the warehouse.

* * *

 

Chandler spotted movement past the operatives and Tex. The Major had slipped away in the chaos and was in position. She held her weapon in Amir's general direction, poised to take out the ringleader. She was frozen in a one knee crouch, face drawn into hardness. He didn't betray her to the enemy, keeping his concentration on getting Tex out of his predicament. So far, they weren't budging.

"I tell you what you take," Amir spat and pushed the muzzle to Tex's temple.

"There aren't enough of you to feed you for ten life times you piece of -" he was silenced with the butt of the gun striking the side of his head. The Major snarled, feeling her trigger finger becoming rather itchy.

"There are no more bad or good guys. It doesn't matter what side you choose anymore."

_That's it...Keep him talking Commander..._

She crept back behind the bay, using the darkness and piles to cloak her actions.

_What the HELL is she doing?!_

Chandler lost sight but continued distracting Amir.

"You know you can have the southwest corner of the building."

"No, you don't tell us what we keep!"

"It's a new world now but there's one thing from the old world that still stands even now: We don't negotiate with terrorists."

The shell struck the target, turning the southwestern corner into a curtain of burning orange and yellow. The team opened fire, taking out each remaining one. Like flies they dropped dead, each with no less than one bullet to the head or chest. Miller erupted from his hiding place, eliminating the final one. Burk glanced over from the next aisle, giving a sign of approval to the timid rookie.

"Nice shooting," the Major appeared. "Guess Navy boys can shoot." She grinned from ear to ear.

"Major Koch, I don't know what the hell you were thinking back there." Chandler huffed and lowered the Carbine.

"I was thinking that they didn't see me and if necessary provide a distraction so you can finish the job." She went to Tex who was pilfering pockets and vests. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he dismissed the initial concern.

"So, Commander," the Major stood up. "About that lab..."


	3. Cold War, Hot War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meetings.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have left kudos!!!!!

It wasn't what she was anticipating.

 

The  _ USS Nathan James _ was a naval destroyer; a missile guided destroyer to be precise. Where were the aircraft carriers?! The Navy Seals?! The nuclear submarines?! What happened to the rest of the US Navy? Surely some had avoided the Pandemic. It couldn't be one ship?! Could it?!

 

“Captain,” the Major turned to face her host. “I don't want to sound rude but are you the only one?”

 

“Afraid so Major,” he nodded grimly.

 

“And the lab is in Helo Bay One.”

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Okay then,” she started along the dock, staying to the left as the truck rolled down, loaded with the spoils. The platform beneath their boots vibrated as the heavy vehicle lumbered towards the James. Couldn't raid the warehouse and forget the kettle chips or Frosted Flakes! At least they would have more variety. It didn't hurt they found the grove of banana and mango trees to the northwest of Section 7. Seems before the shit hit the fan the Cubans had made that their perch in the hopes of taking out a visiting officer or political figure. Beat whatever the Hell they were sustaining themselves on before.

 

Chandler stole a few side glances at their newest passenger, noting the heavy bags pulling at the lower halves of her eyes. The Army issued fatigue pants were soiled with blood, mud, grass, and a few that he couldn't identify. The sand colored shirt was a little better but had the tell tale signs of seeing battle. But he recalled how easily she snapped the neck of the al Qaeda operative back at the warehouse. She didn't hesitate or fumble but knew where to grab and how much pressure to apply.

 

_ I've never seen an officer do something on that level. But she saved my ass. _

 

“Thanks for letting me grab what few items I had. Until I can find some better fitting clothes I'll have to wear men's attire. But the pants don't fit too badly. At least I can get a shower.”

 

From the corner of his eye something red caught his attention. He grabbed her left forearm, startling her as he caught what it was. A gash approximately 3 inches long ripped parallel to her forearm beginning just above the elbow before lifting up and off at the mid point.

 

“You're injured.”

 

“Nothing I haven't dealt with before Captain. I took a bullet to the shoulder on my first tour of Afghanistan. This is a flesh wound and besides, I don't need medical attention.”

 

“The Hell you don't,” he came around with her arm remaining in his hold. “You of all people should understand the ramifications of an untreated laceration in this environment.”

 

“So now you're a microbiologist?” She raised an eyebrow, mildly amused by his stance. Chandler was taken aback by her devil may care attitude.

 

“Why are you so cavalier Major? If anyone here should have a clear understanding of what has happened. Now, when we get aboard I am going to personally escort you to Doc Rios and have that looked at. Even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you.”

 

“Fine,” she pursed her lips. “I'll have your doctor look at it. Will that make you happy?”

 

“Yes,” he added a smirk.

 

“Then may I see the lab? I would like to begin to assist Dr. Scott fairly quickly and trade notes.”

 

“The faster we get you in that lab, hopefully the faster we can get a vaccine and go home.”

 

The Major tilted her head, as if she knew something he didn't.

 

“Something you wish to share Major?”

 

“You're an optimist I see. That's good because you're gonna need that optimism.”

 

“You don't think we'll find a vaccine or cure for this?”

 

“No, I think we will but when you mention home,” she paused and tapped her fingers on the juts of her hips. “I'm a realist Captain. I'm not so sure home is what you think it's gonna be. You realize what this virus is capable of right? It's zoonotic, meaning the capability to infect humans from animals and animals to humans is there. This could go back between avian and human then the other way around. Where do you think some of the most virulent strains of influenza have originated? Look,” she placed her injured arm on his shoulder. “I'm not saying it's end of days but hope for the best and expect the worst.”

 

“Right,” he nodded.

 

“Before my plane went down approximately 90% of US population was infected and on their way to dying. That was three to four weeks ago. The government was on the brink of collapse as the POTUS had succumbed to the virus and most of Congress was dead. The states were falling like dominoes with everyone resorting to self survival and preservation. The cities were urban war zones. I couldn't reach anyone in the Pentagon or DOD. USAMRIID was offline and I am fearing they're dead. But this is between you and me. The last thing you and I want is to ignite any panic or anxieties.”

 

He swallowed a lump that was rising in his throat. Were they still safe at his father's cabin?! Was everyone still healthy?!

 

“I''m sorry to tell you this but I'm not going to sugar coat anything. At least you know what I know about 'home.' I won't know how far or behind we are with a vaccine until I talk to Dr. Scott and get in a suit.”

 

“Then let's get you there.”

 

“Captain,” she stopped him. “We weren't the only ones.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It's not safe to talk out here.” Her head angled around, watching the crew happily loading the fresh infusion of supplies and a few creature comforts courtesy of the small Navy Exchange the Major had pointed out on their way back.

 

Chandler saw the urgency burning in her eyes.

 

“First, we get this,” he pointed to her wound, “taken care of.”

 

“Of course,” she didn't cease glancing around even as they started up the ramp and onto the deck.

* * *

_ “We have a new passenger: Major Alexandra Koch of the United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. She is a microbiologist and immunologist. She has been researching the virus.” _

 

_“Does she have anything with her?”_

 

_“No. Everything she had was lost in the crash; or so she claims.”_

 

_“Damn it. No matter as this is good news. Stall them longer.”_

 

_“Longer?! How do I do that?!”_

 

_“You are a smart man, you will figure out a way.”_

 

Quincy felt his heart drop with the severing of the connection. He didn't know much about Major Koch other than she was from the US Army and was the head of the team that had been dedicated to studying and working with CDC on the Pandemic. He had seen her once, before they were deployed from Norfolk. It had been the last time anyone would see the President or Vice President alive. 

 

_ “Major, please brief the President and Vice President regarding the outbreak.” _

_Major Koch rose, wearing her Class As with ribbons pinned neatly to the center of her left shoulder. It wasn't as numerous as some of the other military personnel present, but still impressive. Quincy had asked her prior to the meeting what each one was to which Major Koch kindly identified each one._

_“This one,” she pointed at one with green tips at the ends, followed with thicker identical red tips, then two narrower bars of black with a white interior. The center had two pencil thin red lines that protected a navy blue one. “Was for my service in Afghanistan. I was there when typhoid broke out in one of the camps.”_

_“What about this one?”_

_The next one had a blank sand center with black bars on the ends with white bars housing minute green lines with red tips closing the sides._

_“Iraq Campaign,” she spoke as if she was reciting off a script. “One tour of combat duty. I was there to search for any biological weapons or evidence of a program. We found very little if anything.”_

_ He pointed to another that was burgundy with three stripes on each end which she mentioned was her Army Good Merit ribbon. The rainbow colored one was her Army Service Military ribbon. These two she was awarded when she was a corporal for demonstrating exceptional leadership qualities and completing her basic training as a private. _

_“Mrs. President and Mr. Vice President, right now we don't have a definitive answer. The virus is unstable and hasn't responded to the conventional antiviral cocktails or therapies. We even tried using the vaccines we have and not a one made a crack.”_

_“Major, am I hearing you correctly by saying your team is at a loss?” The President was alarmed. Major Koch came highly recommended and yet she was standing feet away, saying they had nothing. The Major nodded and dropped her head, scraping together what to say next. They were at the edge of a biological precipice._

_“This is a virus Mrs. President. Unlike bacteria, viruses are neither living nor deceased. All viruses care about is replicating and mutating but it needs a host cell unlike bacteria, which can do it without such. They can take over c. That's why influenza killed so many in 1918. It has a completely different operating level.”_

_“Well please explain it to those of us who are not as versed in viruses,” the Vice President implored. He wasn't patronizing but inquisitive._

_"Okay,” Major Koch took a deep breath. “Viruses infect a human by latching onto a specific cell. For example, HIV seeks and latches onto a certain type of T-Cell which is important in fighting off infections. Once it finds and attaches to that cell, it injects its DNA like you would inject a vaccine. Then it replicates within that cell until the cell ruptures and all of the new viruses seek out more cells to take over and replicate. It's a cycle.”_

_Dr. Rachel Scott was seated towards the back of the conference table, watching her colleague as she attempted to explain how a virus was different from a bacteria. She was reclined in the chair, quietly admiring her for being so calm. Perhaps she had popped a Valium or two before the meeting started. Rachel had caught her taking them on more than on occasion in the field and at home prior to any potential stressful situation. A consequence of being on the front lines. She couldn't begin to fathom the horrors she had been witness to in the mountains of Afghanistan._

_“This virus is something no one was ever seen. It doesn't even fall into any of the families identified! There are at least five strains with more surfacing. I hate to say it but the human species has met its match. Unless science cracks the code on this, it's going run through the human population like tinder.”_

_A few hushed murmurs rippled around the table._

_“What do you know about this Major?”_

_“We do know that it is airborne, highly communicable, and extremely virulent. Even coming into contact with the deceased will expose and infect a person. Within three days of exposure symptoms being to manifest: Fever, headache, and lethargy. Once the lesions appear, delirium is rapid then death comes within 2 days. During that time, the body crashes out; meaning the organs shut down and the body bleeds from every orifice it has. Overall, there is a symptomatic period of 3-5 days. It kills hard and fast. The mortality rate is 100%. The genetic structure is unheard of.”_

_“Jesus....” the President gasped. “Has the source been discovered?!”_

_ “Dr. Scott has developed a theory about that so I'll let her take the floor.” Major Koch took her seat, reaching for the metallic pot that housed the strong bittersweet brew. She couldn't make it through any meeting or briefing without it. The Major watched as her civilian counterpart took the lead. Dr. Scott pulled up her laptop which displayed photos of birds in addition to maps with directional arrows that crossed the map in hourglass shapes. _

_“Thank you, Major. I believe that it is avian in nature. Like Major Koch stated, birds have been the source of several devastating pandemics throughout human history. I believe that the source, the primordial strain is somewhere in the Arctic. With the Major's assistance, we were able to identify a common denominator: The Arctic Tern. They have the longest migration pattern in any species of animal and the initial outbreak didn't occur until after their migrations south commenced.”_

_She pulled up the x-rays obtained from the deceased Arctic terns they collected._

_“But the outbreaks began in parts of the world where the terns don't pass over or stop near.” The Secretary of Defense waved with his hand, incredulous over what she was proposing._

_“Viruses can be spread in fecal matter of the host species,” the Major interjected. “It wouldn't take much for the virus to hitchhike onto a new species if that animal or insect comes into contact with that materiel. Remember, this virus can do whatever it wants because we know shit about it.”_

_“Major,” the Secretary of Defense warned her with a cautionary tone._

_“Mr. Secretary,” the Major turned her attention to him. The pale green rings stared her down as her equally tenacious cerulean ones charged back. She straightened in her seat and neatly intertwined her fingers on the table. “I have studied some of the most dangerous viruses on the planet. Some of them have sources that we have absolutely NO FUCKING clue where they are located. Ever read the Hot Zone!? I have and I highly recommend you do the same. It talks about an unfortunate son of a bitch named Charles Monet who was exploring the Kitum caves and came back a human viral bomb. They don't know what the precise reservoir is or if there are multiple ones of Marburg. As he was flying to Nairobi, the virus was liquefying his internal organs because the 'extreme' amplification of the virus or changing his body into it, failed. You see, the virus had saturated his entire body from head to toe, brain to skin, bone to blood. He was projecting vomito negro, the end result of this failed process. Every cell in his body was sludge. He was essentially crashing out on a passenger plane that recirculated the air, exposing more people to this thing.”_

_Dr. Scott suppressed the smirk struggling to rise on the corners of her lips._

_“Or how about Robert Rayford, the first victim of HIV/AIDS; back in 1969 in Saint Louis.”_

_“I suppose what I am trying to say is that we are out of our element on this one. I support Dr. Scott in her request to go to the Arctic and seek out the primordial strain. Since I am overseeing the logistical aspects of this operation, we are to leave no stone or in this case snow pack unturned. My superiors will support my decision.”_

_She glared at the Secretary of Defense. He was out of his domain in this room; outsmarted and overruled by a goddamn woman._

_“Find Dr. Scott a vessel to transport and house her research including any supporting personnel. This is highly classified and no one outside of this room is to know of the intention of the mission.”_

_ The Major smiled, clearly pleased with herself. The Secretary of Defense seethed. The National Security Adviser nodded to the her as she picked up the phone closest to her. _

_“Yes, I need to speak to the Secretary of the Navy.”_

_“What in the Hell was that all about!?” Quincy couldn't believe what he had been witness to. The pair was en route back to Atlanta to collect the required supplies and equipment for the four month expedition. The Major had lined up the USS Nathan James to be their escort. The Secretary of the Navy would arrange for the “official” mission of the James. “What happened?! Now correct me if I'm wrong but isn't the Secretary of Defense higher in ranking than an Army major?!”_

_“The US Army delivered us a godsend with the Major. She gets it. I wouldn't question it.”_

* * *

“Captain on deck,” Lieutenant Granderson hollered as Chandler set foot across the threshold. XO Slattery couldn't but help to be relieved at the sight of the CO in one piece.

“Mike,” he grasped an overhead hanging, observing the flow of personnel and goods onto the James.

“What did you find? The trucks are loading up the food. We should have enough for 5-6 weeks. Before we lost connection with the fuel we were at 96%.”

“More like who, Mike. More like who,” the ghost of a smile played along his lips.

“Really now?” He pulled the headset up and away then put it around his neck.

“It seems there weren't just two people sent to save the world after all. There was another; an Army major from USAMRIID.”

“Well what's his name?” Slattery was dying to hear this. They couldn't have been that lucky in finding someone else who could be competent in a lab let alone someone from USAMRIID.

“Major Alexandra Koch,” the smile solidified. “And she's quite the personality. Not charming like Dr. Scott but she saved my ass in the warehouse. Nothing unlike I've seen any officer do. She snapped the guy's neck clean. It was as if someone else was in control at that instant.”

“How did she wind up at Gitmo!? I mean that's a long way from home for an Army major from Bethesda. And what do you mean she snapped a guy's neck!?”

“Plane taking her back crashed. Our other pickup pulled her from the wreckage. It seems they lost 5 of the group before we showed up. It was just him and her against 13 al Qaeda prisoners. When one is stranded and surrounded by the enemy, you do what is necessary to survive your environment.”

“Lady's tough,” Slattery snorted but not in disrespect.

“Yeah, yeah she is,” Chandler mirrored his observation.

“So now we have the only know three scientists left who could develop a vaccine?” His XO shook his head. “I would like to think this means the odds have improved.”

“I would like to think so Mike. She lost her equipment and everything she had in the crash. Makes it harder. But she knows Dr. Scott.”

“Really?!” The XO's face faltered. “Great.”

“Don't be so quick to judge Major Koch based on what we know of Dr. Scott. I would suggest not undermining her in front of the officers though. She may bite back.”

* * *

“Doc, I'm fine,” the Major huffed irritably. “I could've scrubbed it myself.”

Doc Rios simply looked at his patient and shook his head before resuming his examination. Army....Stubborn as hell even with the world falling apart.

“Captain made it clear you were to be examined and have this,” he gestured to her arm, “tended to before you go trouncing around in the lab.”

“Yes Mother,” she replied in light sarcasm. Again with the head shake.

“Doc,” Chandler appeared now in full uniform. Green was seated beside Cruz, keeping vigil as any dedicated officer would for his men. Tex, the last man standing as he had called himself, was seated, leaning against the wall with shirt up showing off his red badge of courage to Dr. Scott. Chief Engineer Garnett was stretched out on the exam table, having her injuries treated by one of the medics.

“I'll make it,” Garnett assured the Captain with an uneasy smile. He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline wearing down or the anxiety from being in the brief but extreme heat of battle. Either way, she was strong. “Before you know it I'll be back on my feet.”

“We got it all under control. How about you Major?” Major Koch arched an eyebrow.

“She's a live one Captain. Better watch out for this one.” Doc Rios sought the syringe with the local and the burning pinch simmered under the surface. Major Koch exhaled, feeling the skin around the wound slowly lose all feeling. He continued sticking her, perhaps finding the slightest level of joy in it given her stubbornness.

“I'm well aware of it Doc.” The Major lifted her head to catch the spark in his steel blue traps.

“I'm not so sure she should be working in the lab with this type of wound.” The forceps clicked together, keeping the suture needle steady as he went to repairing the dermis.

“I'll have on at least two layers of gloves over the wound in addition to a suit and the wound will be tightly wrapped with tape to keep anything out. Look, it's pretty imperative I get to work.”

She looked to Chandler, pleading with the superior officer to say something.

“She'll be fine,” Dr. Scott interrupted from a few feet away. She was cleaning the laceration Tex had received courtesy of Amir's merry band of goons. “So long as she follows protocols for a Biolevel 4 environment, her chances of contracting the Ramses strain will be slim.”

“Thank you,” the Major gave a wide smile. “And it's nice to see you again Rachel.”

“Likewise Alex,” Dr. Scott saturated the gauze pad in her fingers before dabbing the wound once more. His lower torso recoiled in reaction and face twisted into a deep pained grimace. The Major chuckled at his childish reactions.

“It burns!” Tex cried like a kid, squirming against the wall. The Major snickered as he continued acting out like a five year old.

“It's suppose to. I'm cleaning it out,” Dr. Scott continued to gently swipe the red stained cloth over the area, ignoring the whimpering from the older man.

“Tex, quit bitching. Seriously, you survived the warehouse where you had several guns pointed at your head and you're whining about a little burn!?” The Major rolled her eyes causing Lieutenant Green to snicker as he sat alongside his teammate, Cruz, who was resting from the impromptu surgery on the beach. She spotted the cut in his pants where the bullet had torn into muscle, nearly severing an artery. He was unconscious but stable, resting in familiar territory with comrades.

“She saved him, Major,” Green caught her curious glance.

“Dr. Scott can be tough as nails, Lieutenant Green. He was in good hands.”

“Yeah, yeah he was,” Green nodded, acknowledging what he had initially been hesitant to accept. “He would've died out there if she hadn't shown up.”

Rachel quelled the smile that wanted to crack the corners of her lips. She felt the weight of someone's gaze and caught Major Koch staring from across the room. Her head nodded in encouragement as if to say,  _ well done. _ It was lifting to have a friendly face around.

“She and the Major here are going to save us all. Aren't you?” Chandler looked straight at the Major. A hopeful expression dominated his eyes. It was difficult to not let that warmth penetrate her being the longer they kept their stares locked to one another. Chandler shook his head, breaking the trance he was in. They had captivated him; those brilliant sapphires.

“I know so,” she nodded and felt her ears burning.

* * *

“Captain on Bridge,” Chandler wasn't alone as entered the boat house. Major Koch was accompanying him. A crisp white layer of gauze shielded the newly mended laceration with a few strips of waterproof tape to keep it secure. It stood out against wrinkled sand colored shirt. She was in clear awe of everything that was carried out all around her. The ice blue rings widened into saucers as they fell upon the complex systems including communications and navigation. Her grandfather had served on the USS Missouri and told her stories of his time in service during World War II. He had been one of the fortunate sailors to witness the declaration of surrender being signed by Japan.

“Mike, this is Major Alexandra Koch, US Army. She's an immunologist.”

“Major Koch,” Mike eagerly extended his paw like hand to which the Major happily accepted, finding hers being devoured by his larger one. “Welcome aboard the James.”

“Thank you XO Slattery. While it may take some time for me to develop my sea legs, I can assure you I  ** will  ** do everything in my ability to get a vaccine created. But if it wasn't for the Captain, I would still be back on Gitmo taking pot shots from terrorists. I could go for a stiff drink though.” The Major mused miserably.

“Sir, there's a problem with some equipment.” Lieutenant Granderson interrupted. “It seems one of the pieces of lab equipment tipped over and Dr. Tophet is insisting he get it upright and recalibrated before depart.”

“What piece? Did he say?” The Major questioned the officer. If they were using the equipment she was thinking they were, there was no way anything could've tipped over unless.....

“No ma'am he didn't. But he said he needs 3-4 hours to do it.” Just then the phone rang and Granderson hastily excused herself to take it.

“Most of that equipment is pretty sturdy and it takes substantial force or someone to do that. There wasn't any hard maneuvering prior to arriving here was there?” Her question wasn't one of accusation but of investigation.

“No, ma'am. Even when we were in the Arctic there were no harsh turns or moves that could've disrupted anything. Dr. Scott made no mention of any matters.”

Before she could ask further, Lieutenant Granderson hurried over. Her body language was elevated but she remained cool on the surface. Still, the Major could see the underlying panic.

“Sir, IMO can confirm the signature on the vessel but they don't think it's British.”

“What vessel?” Major Koch looked out and saw the approaching vessel. It was drawing closer towards them, increasing in speed. Chandler peered through the binoculars, getting a better view of their company. What awaited him wasn't friend. What he saw was a Kirov class battlecruiser positioned at the mouth of the harbor.

“It's the Russians! Set general quarters NOW!”

“General quarters! General quarters! All hands man your battle stations!”

_ “Bridge this is TAO; enemy has just energized its fire controlled radar.” _ The TAO's alert tone came across which heightened the tensions already simmering in the boat house.

“We're in their cross hairs.” Slattery felt his anxieties rise along with his pulse. It was the Arctic Part Deux except this time there was a lack of airships opening fire on their men.

“Oh shit,” Major Koch felt the cold settling in the pit of her stomach. “This is not good.”

Slattery cast a strange look in her direction but didn't get to ask her what she meant by that statement as a message came over the channel.

_ “Captain Tom Chandler.” _

As if the Major's sickening sensation couldn't get any worse.....

“This is Commander Chandler; identify yourself immediately!”

_ “I apologize for the rude introduction but I believe you have someone, rather two someones that I want.” _

Chandler looked to the Major who just nodded her head, confirming the unspoken question. Mike frowned at this silent exchange between them. What was going on? What were they keeping from him? Oh HELL no he was not going to be deceived again!

Major Koch hugged her chest and watched everyone man their stations. It was the one thing she could do without losing her mind at that particular instance. She was blocked out by everyone around her, nothing more than part of the background while the ship's personnel prepared for battle. She didn't notice someone approaching her from behind until the moist breath was barreling down the back of her neck and outer ear.

“May I ask what that was about?” Slattery snarled in her ear. The pensive shoulders dropped as he spun around, coming face to face with an agitated XO.

“We weren't the only ones in a race for a vaccine Commander. I had suspicions someone was working on the inside for them before I left for Guiana. How else would they have known to come here where we all happened to be? And how else would they know that I'm here on board along with Dr. Scott!?”

“What made you think that?”

“Now is not the time Commander,” the Major shook her head. “As I told the Captain, we weren't the only ones. What did he mean by rude introduction?!”

“We thought it was a British vessel hailing us. Woman claimed it was the HMS Suffolk and they were low on supplies including fuel and no one was infected.”

“Of course,” the Major narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “One of the oldest tricks in the book. The wounded bird ploy.”

“No,” Slattery squeezed her right bicep. “Tell me damn it. What made you think that?”

She huffed in open irritation. Now was so not the time for a pissing contest with her. The Major didn't attempt to conceal her indignation towards the XO as she spoke.

“Before I departed Guiana, I received a message from a colleague inside DOD. Someone had intercepted a message meant for the Russians that specifically called out Dr. Scott and myself by name in addition to meeting times and places within the DC area. That was before the government imploded. Someone knew what we were doing. I don't know who but it's clear they're still very much alive and I want to know who. Does that answer your question?”

The pressure lifted from her arm as Slattery took a few steps back.

“Asshole,” she muttered beneath her breath while rubbing the area. It was bright angry red.

* * *

 

“This is Commander Tom Chandler; to whom to do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

_ “This is Commander Constantine Nicholai Ruskov, former Vice Admiral of the once great Russian Federation.” _

Chandler caught the Major rolling her eyes.

_ Great Russian Federation MY ASS! Couldn't even beat a bunch of cavemen! _

He spied the burning mark peeking from under the right sleeve of her shirt then looked to his XO who immediately averted his eyes from the weight of his CO's glare.

“Admiral, I will advise you that you are in US territorial waters and we will take defensive action if necessary if you do not withdraw sea ward.”

_ “Commander Chandler, I have tracked you down across the Earth. Give into my demands and I will let you and your crew go.” _

“And what exactly are those orders?”

_ “It is my understanding you have a sample of the primordial strain. In addition to the sample you will hand over Dr. Rachel Scott and Major Alexandra Koch and their respective research.” _

“Master of Watch,” Chandler hollered over his shoulder. An officer stepped up; his face concealed by anti-flash gear along with matching gloves that slid up and under the sleeves. “Go to my cabin and retrieve the book that is written in Russian.”

These bastards were not going to budge. The Russians didn't roll over.

“Captain,” the Major spoke up. Chandler snapped his head left, long enough to speak to her.

“Major, I need you to head to the lab and put together a vial of sample for me.”

“You're not-” she shook her head. “Bad idea Captain.”

“I didn't say the primordial sample,” he lowered his voice to only she could hear. It was difficult to hear as she strained to gather every syllable he spoke. But it dawned on her.

“Right,” she eagerly nodded.

“Once you get that sample ready, report back here with it.”

“You got it, Captain.” Again the mark on her arm flashed upward towards him as the Major rushed off. Slattery felt it again. He knew what would be coming when they got away from the Russians.

If they got away from the Russians.

* * *

 

Rachel peered up as the Major erupted through the door and raced for the nearest suit.

“Alex what in the Hell-”

“No time to talk Rachel,” she steadily slipped in then zipped up the suit. She peeled the gloves up and over the bandaged part of her arm, double layer for extra measure. For triple measure, she duct taped the edge of the sleeve and glove together. Rachel watched from the other side of the plastic as the Major repeated this with the other side. The Major topped it off with the hood, complete with air system and crossed the barrier between hot and cold.

Rachel grabbed the red phone waiting for the Major to respond. It took a few moments before she lifted her head in acknowledgment.

“Alex what is going on?”

“Just a little present for our comrades.” She had a pitch of glee in her voice. “The Captain requested it.”

Quincy now joined her, watching as their newest team member filled one of the smallest vials they had then carefully screwed it shut. The Major looked around, spotting something on one of the shelves. Her eyes widened and lips parted into a matching smile.

“What is she doing?” Rachel didn't break her sight from the Major, instead, kept her focus on the suited figure.

“Preparing for something.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One person shares their pain in the hopes of history not repeating itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and leaving a kudos!!!!

_**Mid Atlantic.......Present........** _

“I am SO over this shit,” Alex snarled as she suited up. “Ruskov can kiss my goddamn ass! I should tell him that! Yeah, I should grab the radio out of Tom's hand and tell that son of a bitch in Russian to KISS MY ASS!”

She paused and rethought her words.

“On second thought, he would like that. Probably hasn't even  _**touched** _ a woman since this whole thing started!”

She jerked the zipper up faster than she wanted, running a gloved finger between the teeth. Her lips puckered together with a deep anguished growl.

“Damn it!” Her wrist snapped as if the plastic had been a venomous snake. Her right hand trembled as it turned and curled in inspection. The surface layer had been compromised at the tip. Easy to redress.

“Easy there Alex,” she chided herself and slowed down. “They're not worth getting pissed off over. Not worth the energy.”

“Alex,” Rachel was dressing up alongside her. “You alright?”

Alex took a moment to recover before nodding. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just.....anxious that's all. After Brasil, we have to be one step ahead of Ruskov. I don't know if he'll fall for this.”

Rachel saw the apprehension looming in the thousand yard stare that greeted her.

“We can't let them down.” She shook her head.

“Hey,” pressure came down on her left shoulder. Rachel squeezed it in a supportive gesture. “Alex take a deep breath for me.”

“I-I need,” she couldn't finish her words and flopped into the chair. Her breathing quickened and stomach knotted. Alex propped an elbow on the table, cupping her forehead to the palm of her hand. The satellite phone was beginning to tilt precariously with the table and lamp following in cadence. Alex went into the edge, clawing her hands around the edge as if she was keeping her body from falling. Nerves burned as muscle locked and seared in agony, preventing her from moving. Everything was spinning! Her head was light, causing her to shut her eyes hard. Adrenaline had begun its intervention, only amplifying her looming breakdown.

_ No....no no no not now! _

“Look at me,” Rachel was suddenly there, taking her face into her hands. They were cool and dry, unlike her sweaty burning ones. The slender fingers absently brushed over her cheeks. She ignored the beads of sweat threading across her skin as she looked Alex straight in the eyes and spoke with authority. “Now focus on why you're doing this. The reason, the person up on that bridge counting on you and me. He needs you. He needs you to be strong. I need you to be strong.”

Seconds turned into minutes which felt like hours as she waited for her friend to reply, move, do something to acknowledge her. The silence clung about them. It was five; five minutes before Alex blinked twice then gradually nodded. Good, she was coming down. Find what stabilized her; kept her grounded.

“I think you mean persons as in 216 of them.”

“Exactly,” the Brit smiled softly. “We can do this. Remember when we were in the field in Ukraine when there was the Newcastle incident?”

“Yeah,” serenity calmed her body and softened her face. “Everyone was in a perpetual state of panic and the local officials were-”

“Desperate to get control and we did just that.”

Rachel stood back as her partner rose, wiping her eyes then don the hood of the suit. Confidence was taking over, exorcising the trepidation. Her demons retreated to the abyss of doubt and darkness that lurked in the corners of her mind; biding their time for another day.

“You're right,” she crossed into the hot zone and deposited the canister on the bench. “I can't let them down. We can't let them down.”

“I'll get the media.” Rachel went for the fume hood. “What do you think we should do?”

“Maybe something very unpleasant.” Alex passed two tubes over. “Just enough to debilitate them but not kill them. We don't kill to make a point. What do we have?”

* * *

Chandler never wavered in his stance at the helm. A rouse wouldn't be successful this time. Whatever Alex and Rachel were cooking up better be good.

“Captain,” Alex hollered out with Rachel keeping pace alongside her. “You might want to handle this package with care.”

He looked down at the small tin resting in her open hand.

“What is it?”

“Don't worry, Captain” Rachel smiled coyly. “It is nothing more than two vials of  _ Escherichia coli.  _ We all carry it in our lower intestinal tract.”

“Only we did a little tinkering with it,” Alex couldn't but help to grin sheepishly. “But don't worry it won't kill them if you're concerned about that. Only problem is getting close enough to deliver our gift.”

“We can cover that,” Lieutenant Green spoke up. “I wanna run Alpha.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at the young officer.

“Lieutenant, this is not going to be an easy mission.” Alex turned her body around so she could face him. Foster was leaning in, intent on knowing what was going on. “In order to be successful, the vials have to be introduced directly onto the ship. Ruskov will be watching us.”

“With all due respect Major,” he stiffened in her presence. “I am well aware of the risks in undertaking a mission such as this. It's what I was trained for.”

“It's not my call, Lieutenant,” Alex looked to Chandler.

“If you think you can do this,” the Captain nodded. Alex reluctantly handed the tin over to Green. He reached out, curling his fingers around the precious item. She could feel the angst radiating from Foster even though she was across the way. It took everything in Alex's power to keep from letting him have it in front of everyone.

_ I love you.....Stay away from me! _

Evasion: Danny's way of keeping his mind on the goddamn mission while thinking he was keeping Kara safe. Jesus that boy was thicker headed than Alex had guessed! If they survived this, she was going to sit that kid down and slap some sense into that thick skull of his.

“I know I can do it, Sir.” It was like no emotion existed. Just a hollow shell ready to serve. Yep, he was getting a talk.

“Very well,” Chandler issued his order. Alex could only offer a sympathetic look for Foster. Her heart went out to the younger officer. Seeing how much love she harbored only broke her own heart. Why did men have to be such idiots?

* * *

“Kara,” Alex flagged her down before she could vanish into the officer's break room. “Kara wait up.”

Foster waited and watched as the Major hurried towards her. The older officer gave a warm smile, disarming any apprehensions.

“Let's grab some coffee,” Alex turned the door and pushed it open. As they started in, they froze just as fast. Lieutenant Green was at the table; alone. Admiral Halsey was stretched out on the chilly tile, a source of relief from the excess heat of his handler's cabin. Hearts pounded, increasing the tension between the strained lovers. Alex felt her lungs being saturated as the air thickened.

“Lieutenant Green,” Alex formally greeted him.

“Major,” he was curt. He didn't say a word to Foster or even give a look of acknowledgment.

“Have you thought of how you're going to get those samples on the ship?” Alex casually strolled towards the coffee maker and motioned Foster to join her. Foster hesitated but mustered her will and took her place alongside the elder officer.

“Not yet,” he took another bite of cling peaches.

“You know,” Alex took a drink and dropped in the seat to his left. It was just right on strength. “Before the world went to Hell, for me it always when was the next deployment. When would that 3 AM call happen, kick starting the sweet rush of adrenaline that fueled me for 48 hours straight when I saw action. I lived for the outbreaks and facing down viruses like Ebola and Marburg on its terms. Such a thrill. I took advantage of each day, knowing I was going to return home to my boyfriend, Mark. He was a doctor you know; a brilliant one. Loved working in the hospital setting, taking care of those in need. His passion he wore on his sleeve.”

Foster watched the light dull as Alex's eyes started misting over. Spider webs made of crimson crisscrossed pearl fracturing the immaculate surface. Her hand holding the mug began to shake, forcing her to clamp her wrist with the opposite hand.

“But then the Pandemic reached home. I had been sent to Chicago to investigate a cluster of cases when I got the call. It was 8:16 AM. It was beautiful Friday morning. The cardinal was singing right outside my window. The cars down on Shoreline Drive were gridlocked as though the virus had not tainted limits of the city. The summer heat was just gearing up. It's funny how you can recall the little things in times of duress.”

Alex lifted her wrist and slowly tipped the edge of the mug to her lips. Her voice had cracked under the strain of summoning ghosts. Green and Foster traded uneasy glances.

“Mark had contracted it and was dying. He was calling out for me despite the delirium that had set in. Had been for almost 12 fucking hours. I raced back to Maryland, taking every flight that would get me closer to him; but I was too late. Mark had died six hours earlier; surrounded by men and women in Level A suits in a cold viral laden cubicle. Doctors said his final breath had been my name. I had lost the one person that I loved more than anything. My family had passed away from it a month before and he was all I had in this god forsaken world. He had NO ONE! No one to hold his hand or stroke his face or tell him they would never leave him. God, I couldn't even start to comprehend how scared he must've been. Your body shutting down, your mind falling in behind it; wasting away like a living corpse. I had been so carefree, so callous in thinking he would always be there, cooking or perhaps watching a Nationals game, waiting for me to come home. I wish I could've spent more time with him; tell him I loved him more. But I lost it. Rejection, Lieutenant Green; rejection will cost you dearly.”

He was mute, swallowing hard as Alex took another drink. She sniffled and swept the tears with the back of her hand.

“I don't want to see anyone else have to go through what I did. Don't push out the ones who care about you. Keeping your distance will only make the pain greater.”

Green shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Still, he stay seated.

“I had to learn my lesson the hard way.”

Alex stood, feeling the urge to leave. Talking about Mark had ripped the wound back open. Leaving the younger officers, she darted out the door and raced for her cabin.

* * *

 

“Alex!” She didn't hear her name echoing down the corridor.

“Alex!” Again the plea fell on deaf ears.

“Alexandra!” This time she stopped her hurried stride. Tex had been shouting her name. “Alex, wait up.”

“Tex,” she kept her back to him. Alex didn't want him to see her hurting. “I-I didn't hear you. But shouldn't you be up on deck? I mean the Russians-”

“Ruskov backed off for now. I was calling your name for the last minute.” She couldn't see the deep burrowing of the man's brow. “Are you alright? ”

“Uh yeah I'm fine,” she lied. “I was just heading back to my cabin.”

“I don't think you're alright,” he gently placed a hand on her shoulder, coaxing Alex to turn around. Seeing the hurt only confirmed his initial statement. “You're not alright.”

“Don't worry about me,” she gave a sad small smile and smeared another tear across her cheek. “I'll manage this.”

“No,” Tex adamantly shook his head. “No, Alex you're not going to suffer alone. Why must you insist on being so goddamn stubborn?! Come on,” he took her elbow and took the lead.

“I know I said I put Mark to rest but,” she stopped and leaned against the nearest wall. Her hands rested on her knees as her head dipped down. “It was so hard back there, bringing him up. I felt like I was relieving that day all over again. I felt so helpless, not being there and being stuck 1000 miles away. It seemed more like a million miles. You know the only thing I have left is one photo of him taken at Saint Kitts. Look,” Alex shook her head. “I know he's gone as the rest of the Old World is but it still hurts. Damn it still hurts.”

“Alex,” Tex clasped both hands on her shoulders. “We all lost loved ones. You're still grieving, yes, I can see it and hear it. But please don't keep it in. It'll eat you from the inside out.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I can't dump this on him. It wouldn't be fair for him to have to listen to me dredge it back up. I don't want to do that to him. He told me he finally realized what he needed. Tex, I saw it in his eyes. It was a genuine happiness. I don't think I've ever seen that expression before. I can't destroy that.”

“To be honest, you're the best thing that happened to him since this all started.”

“Me? The same pain in the ass major who decided to take a little swim in the Caribbean Sea and go after one of Ruskov's goons? The same one who took it upon herself to-” Tex shot a hand up.

“Yes, Alex, that same pain in the ass. He may not be able to say or show it outright, but he does genuinely care about you. I've seen it. You two may put on a show for the rest of the crew and officers but not everyone buys it.”

“I know that it's wrong for us to,” she paused. “But the world we know is gone. I can't let anything happen like it has between Foster and Green-” Tex's eyes widened but softened.

“Oh shit,” Alex slapped her palm to her forehead. Boot meet mouth. Well so much for confidentiality.

“Let's take a walk,” Tex suggested. Together they departed the opposite way.

* * *

 

“Thanks,” she curled her hands around the mug. Now they were in her cabin. “Look, I didn't intend to unload like that. But it did feel good to get it out.”

“Always does,” his face brightened into a comforting smile. “Mark will always be a part of you just as Tom's family will be a part of him. But it's okay to let yourself develop those feelings again. You two fit; you're a team. Even XO Slattery notices it.”

“Mike,” she smiled halfheartedly. “We weren't sure how he would react if he figured it out. But I know he hurts; he hurts like the rest of us. At first I thought he was going to strangle Rachel. You know for keeping back the fact she had been playing telephone with the mainland and they had to maintain silence. I know that feeling; being the unwanted orphan. It happened to me the first time I set foot in USAMRIID.”

“To be honest,” Tex spoke up. “We both can understand his sentiments.”

“I didn't know what else to do,” Alex took a longer drink as she shifted subjects. “I told Tom I wasn't doing it on purpose. I knew he would freak out . Hell, Rachel wasn't thrilled about it either. Called me a goddamn looney bird after I recovered. Mike was more colorful in his words. I suppose I had that coming considering the risks I put everyone in.”

“When that happened, the Captain had feared the worst. I'm pretty certain he didn't sleep in his cabin the entire time. There were a few days he stood there, watching Rachel and Doc Rios care for you. He didn't say much to anyone. He seemed to be in some kind of daze; like one of those zombies from the movies. You know, all lumbering and grunting but not decomposing or smelly. But when he got word you were awake and on the mend, it was as if someone had flipped the switch.”

“Christ,” Alex pinched the bridge of her nose hard. Guilt was crashing over like waves, lapping at the edge of her resolve. “I-I never knew.”

“From what I've seen he's not exactly a man to wear his emotions on his sleeve,” Tex's grin fired up. “And neither are you.”

“Well I wore my heart on my sleeve back in that break room. Hell it was tattooed on my damn arm.”

“Don't worry, your secret's safe with me.”

“Thanks,” Alex smiled against the warm ceramic edge. “Suppose we should find out how our mailman is going to make delivery.”

* * *

Rachel was already in what Alex deemed the War Room when the latter entered. Chandler tipped his head up, catching the bloodshot eyes she had so miserably failed to conceal.

“Major,” he greeted her professionally. Alex directed her eyes downward as she hastily shut the door. There would be questions; questions she would have to answer for.

“My apologies,” she joined the small group comprised of Chandler, XO Slattery, Rachel, Gator, and Lieutenant Green. The youngest officer refrained from looking across the table at Alex.

“Actually Major you're on time,” Chandler shook his head. “Gator, catch the Major up.”

“Sir,” the ship's navigator rolled out a schematic across the table. “Major Koch if you would come around,” he motioned for Alex to join him. “How familiar are you with Soviet vessels?”

“If it's after World War II I'm horrible,” she responded regretfully. “But please lay it on me.”

“Alright,” his index finger pointed to the center of the diagram. “Kirov class battle cruisers are larger than the James, which is an Arleigh Burke destroyer. But, they aren't without flaws.”

“What do you mean without flaws? Correct me if I'm wrong Gator but these are the Russians we're dealing with and they're weren't exactly known for making mistakes in the military department. Yes they were built to take out the carrier fleets and that is as far as my knowledge goes.”

“You are right on that Major but,” he pulled back the top drawing and spread the second one out. “If we can get someone up close, long enough to deposit the vials, our best shot is here.”

Alex craned her neck and studied the section of the ship Gator tapped. It was difficult to share in the navigator's ambitions.

“What if they detect Lieutenant Green or whomever goes out? Surely there has to be another way. Ruskov is going to expect something like that. What about water? Do they generate their own or will they have to seek it out?”

“The Kirovs can generate their own water but if I recall they do have the capabilities of purifying water from any source.”

“Captain if I may,” Alex carefully spoke up.

“Go ahead Major,” he gave her the table.

“Why don't we use another means to deliver? How about the air? Perhaps pick up a favorable wind and dispense it that way. We remain upwind of it.”

“The Major's right,” Rachel nodded. “Disseminating it by air would be the best. One person can remain on board, staying safe. We can monitor the procedure and ensure it works.”

“It would be a total mind fuck for Ruskov. He may have written the book on modern naval warfare, but he knows shit about microbiology other than what he knows about the virus.” Alex could care less about her words at that instant. Mike flinched at her lack of mincing while Tom was stoic. Gator rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh come on guys, you are all thinking the same thing. I merely said it!” Alex huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Remember, 'Know thy enemy'.”

“Major's got a point,” Mike spoke up. “You said so yourself Ruskov paved the way. He's arrogant. He probably thinks he's won this round. Why take the risk and put someone in the line of fire?”

The XO glanced at Rachel who faintly smiled.

“Doctor, can you and the Major do it? Make it airborne?”

“It will take us time but we can do it.” Rachel looked to Alex who gave a simple nod. Her mouth was occupied with coffee. “We can aersolize it then disperse with a basic vehicle or means. Look at how the Anthrax attacks occurred. Mail delivery.”

“And let's not forget  Sverdlovsk,” Alex removed the mug from her mouth which was curled in a disgusted snarl. With the exception of Rachel, everyone else seemed perplexed.

“Sverdlovsk was a town in Russia that was the focus of a release of anthrax spores in 1979. Of course the Soviets denied it and covered it up claiming it was caused by consumption of contaminated meat. Wasn't the case. Yelstin finally admitted what the West was screaming for years: It was because of a filter not being replaced but because of military activity. The wind carried the spores down a straight line. The KGB had already confiscated the files from the hospital and other documents that would implicate the military. Of course no one could get inside the actual facility.”

Alex finished off her coffee and slowly placed the mug on the table. She shoved her hands into her pockets, catching the mixed reactions. “But It doesn't matter now. None of that does.” No one spoke, perhaps expecting for her to speak first. Instead, a finger outlined an area around the boathouse.

“Air intake,” she flicked the spot. “Pull a reverse Sverdlovsk.”

With that she polished the remaining coffee off and made hasty exit.

* * *

“So you wanna tell me what's going on?”

Rachel paused, halfway dressed in the lab suit. She peered curiously at Alex who was zipping the front of hers up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she was nonchalant in her reply.

“Don't think I didn't see it. You and Mike are warming up to each other. The dirty looks are gone. No snide remarks or undermining. Well it's about damn time it happened. All that tension mounting,” she plastered a knowing smile. “The rage and hatred changing into something deeper.”

“You're incorrigible.”

“Look, all I'm saying is XO Slattery has finally started waking up and stopped being a giant ass bag. Maybe he's turning over a new piece coral or something,” she shrugged and flipped the hood over then sealing that tight. “Who am I to judge right?”

“Don't think I don't know what's going on between you and the Captain,” Rachel threw Alex's words back. “I saw you leaving his cabin on more than one occasion. And if I recall, you weren't in your cabin a few different nights.”

“So?” The Major shrugged. “Are you my mom now?”

“So? Alex, I wasn't born yesterday.”

Alex's shoulders drooped and face tinged pink before fanning out along her neck and ears.

“Alright fine,” she flipped the tin back open. “You win Nancy Drew. We're keeping things under wraps,” her head sharply snapped up. “For good reason. You understand.”

“I won't say anything,” Rachel's hands flipped up in defense.

“And I won't say anything about Mike.” Alex drew an invisible cross over her heart. “Cross my heart.”

“Again,” Rachel felt the laugh rumbling in her chest. “You're incorrigible.” She paused and went quiet for a moment. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Alex was hunched over a microscope.

“Well it's just when you came in earlier you're eyes were-”

“It was nothing; really it wasn't anything serious. I was wearing my emotions on my sleeve; something I promised myself not to do after....” her finger tapped nervously on a narrow space of the bench. “Never mind, let's get back to getting this ready.” Her words came out harsher than desired as the sharp flinch in her partner's face wavered through the plastic shield.

“Damn it I'm sorry. I didn't mean to try and bite your head off. Let's just get this done.” Alex hung her head, guilt ridden over her behavior. Rachel was attempting to be a friend not an interrogator. “Wait, wait.”

She took a sample she was studying and placed the corresponding tube in the centrifuge.

“Wait, I'm not being fair. I told Lieutenants Foster and Green about what I lost from the Pandemic. It opened the wound. No, it didn't just open it, it ripped it apart. For a brief instant, I was back in that moment; when I was told Mark didn't make it. Not everyone knows the whole story. Green, Foster, Tex, you, and Tom know everything.”

“It must've been difficult.”

“Like I told Tex, it did feel good telling Green and Foster. To see no one else endure what I did is worth taking that painful road. I'm getting better at it. Tom has been so understanding about it. When I told him that night, when we lost power, that took a lot for me. I don't want to burden him with anymore of my dramas. I know he still misses them. You know, I don't even know what it is we have.”

“Something,” Rachel nodded. “Perhaps labeling it would only degrade it in some way.”

“Yeah,” Alex admitted she had a point. “Calling it something may not be a great idea.”

* * *

Chandler stood unnoticed.

For the last 10 minutes he watched the Major and Dr. Scott. He wanted to catch Alex before she slipped into the lab but she had been faster.

“Did it happen again Lex? Did you have another episode?” He whispered to no one. “You're not alone in this.” His hand lifted then came to rest upon the semi-rigid plastic, letting it stay for a moment or two.

“Commodore,” Tex stopped beside him. The former contractor followed the Captain's line of sight. He saw Alex and Rachel doing what appeared to be some cleaning process. A bottle of sterile water flushed something in a dish before it was applied to heat.

“Commodore,” Tex nudged Chandler. “The Major's gonna keel hull me for this but I don't want to see her doing this to herself. I see her as my little sister; the crazy, not afraid to jack a man's car because he looked at another woman kind of crazy. Look, I'm worried about her. ”

“What do you mean?” The steel blue remained steady on the shorter figure.

“She had a little talk with some of the crew about what she went through with losing Mark. It triggered a flashback for her. That's why she looked like shit.”

“I knew she was having nightmares. She doesn't like to talk about them.”

“Maybe she's overcoming that. She said it was difficult to bring that part of her life up yet she has managed to find that spark, that inner strength to bring it up. I know, terrible cliché right?”

“No,” Chandler shook his head. “I think it's fitting for her. Somehow when she gets kicked down, she picks herself up off the ground and marches on. Doesn't complain about it.”

“Is that one of the reasons?”

“One of the reasons for what?”

“That you feel the way you do about her. She once told me she wasn't sure what it was you two have. I don't know it sounded like she was having doubts or uncertainties. But maybe I'm wrong.”

He looked over at the grizzled man then returned his attention to the lab.

“I'm not sure what if any word can define it.”

* * *

 

Alex felt something tugging at her; guiding her head up and to the left. There, standing side by side was Tom and Tex. The deep lines were etched around Tom's eyes and brow, dropping her heart in her chest. She knew it was because of her. His hand, the one on the plastic, reached out for the phone that bridged the gap between their worlds.

“Major,” he spoke with a slight tremble. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah,” she was uneasy in her response. “Let me finish up and get the sample dry. Then I'll be out.”

Her heart sprinted in her chest. What had Tex told him? Should she even be surprised he said anything? No, directing any anger to Tex was wrong. Still, he had to go and open his mouth. Well, there was no running away.

“You'll be alright,” Rachel encouraged.

* * *

Three hours later, Alex found herself stepping into Tom's cabin. She pulled the door behind her, latching it shut. The handle bit into her lower back but she shut out the pain. What was she going to say? Could she even form a coherent sentence?

“Tex told me,” Tom gently broke the silence. “He said he was worried. He's not the only one.”

“I didn't want you to saddle anything more. Sometimes you have to relive the pain so others may live.”

Tom was puzzled by her choice of words.

“Lex, look,” he got up, and rounded the desk. Alex leaned harder in the door, letting the unforgiving slab support her shaky body.

“It's not worth talking about it.”

“It's consuming you.”

Her throat began to close around itself, tightening like a fist. “I'm sorry. I've been keeping so much inside of me; not opening up more to you.”

Now the tears were sliding freely over her cheeks and jaw, streaking across the reddening skin.

“I just don't want to hurt anymore. I'm tired of fighting the war.”

Alex felt her body falling away from the cold support of the door and into the warm comfort of his arms. She had been carrying this burden for too long. It was time. It was time to let those afflictions be expelled.

Tom simply led them both to the bunk, sitting down but never lessening his hold on her. He didn't speak, only keeping her pressed to him. She was allowing herself to heal. Letting him help her by simply being there.

“Thank you,” the muffled whimper cracked the side of her mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her hair with a grateful smile.

 


	5. Stand Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slattery and the Major clash yet again while the Russians are happily perched at the entrance to the harbor. A flashback surfaces.....

_**Guantanamo Bay...One year earlier...** _

"Alright," the Major reappeared two hours later. "I have what you requested."

In her hand was a small container. It was approximately three inches in length and one inch in width. It was cool to the touch as it rested in her ready palm.

"Will it last in that?" Chandler peered curiously at the object.

"Yeah, yeah it should." She nodded though a spark of uncertainty laced her voice. "I'm not sure what you're thinking though. Frankly I wouldn't offer Ruskov shit."

"We have to try Major."

"You're way too generous of a man, Captain. Meeting Ruskov is risky. We don't know what he's planning. For all we know he could have a man with his finger on the button ready to ship our asses out on a mushroom cloud."

"The Major has a point," Slattery spoke up. "For all we know, that asshole could be digging in while everyone's sitting down for a friendly chat."

"We should blow his ass sky high," she added. "This is an Arleigh Burke class destroyer right?"

"Right," Chandler was impressed.

"Well if I remember what my dad and grandfather told me, this baby should have Raytheon Tomahawks on board; 56 if fully loaded."

"And he could easily retaliate with a nuke. It's not worth the risk Major." The Major was miffed but held her tongue.

"Then I want to go."

"Absolutely not. I need you here working with Doctor Scott. You going along would only play into his hands. We're taking Dr. Tophet."

"I can handle my own Captain. No offense to you or your men but I'm a proficient with a weapon which I demonstrated back at the warehouse. I can also engage in hand to hand combat and I did save your skin."

"For being an immunologist, you sure do know a lot about fighting. Why is that Major?"

The Major whipped around, bristling at the XO's veiled implication.

"Because Commander," she two short steps until she was inches from his face so only he and Chandler could hear. "I spent two tours in Afghanistan and a stint in Columbia. The cartels, they don't appreciate it when gringos are on their turf; even if it was because of a viral hemorrhagic fever that was decimating their slave labor and nearby villages. I took a bullet," she dug a finger into the center of her right shoulder; as though she was driving her point home for any and all. Slattery stared her down, refusing to let some lower ranked officer stand him up like that. But the Major wasn't finished." And I gave 8 more to the cartel goons in return. Tell me, XO Slattery, have you done the same? Hmm? Have you seen combat or taken a bullet for your shipmates? I have seen things that would make the South Side of Chicago look like goddamn Mayberry."

"N-no but-" the Major shot her finger up, pointing it at the ceiling.

"I thought just as much. So please, don't you dare attempt to subvert me like you did with Dr. Scott. While she may take your verbal abuse I won't."

"Major," Chandler warned and she took a step back from his XO.

"If you need me when you return Captain, I will be in the lab. But first, I would like to clean up if that is allowed and perhaps some clothes if possible." Her tone softened but her eyes remained hard.

"Lieutenant Foster," he called the young brunette standing several feet away. Her hair was similar to the Major's dark cocoa strands; tied neatly in a perfect bun at the base of her skull. The Major estimated her age to be mid 20s.

"Sir," Lieutenant Foster was alongside the Major.

"Escort Major Koch to S-3 then to clean up. "

"Aye aye Sir," she gave a respectful nod then paid the same to the Major before leading her out. Chandler waited until the pair was out of sight before calmly shoving his hands in his pants pockets and only giving a curt nod to Slattery.

* * *

 

"I see you heeded my warning," he pushed the door to his stateroom open waiting for his XO to enter before shutting it behind them. Chandler leaned on the desk, crossing his hands over his chest. "I told you she would bite back."

"I was merely asking why she knew something that someone in her line of work would know so little about. Scientists aren't exactly known for their fighting skills." His defense was transparent.

"No, you were attempting to undermine her. Damn it Mike!"

"Tom-" Chandler shot a hand up, immediately ceasing any further attempt to speak.

"You're angry I get that. Dr. Scott lied to all of us about what was going on back home. You undermined her in front of the officers before we went onshore."

"We had to maintain radio silence for FOUR months! We couldn't warn our families back home."

"Doesn't mean you take your frustrations out on Major Koch. She was out on the front lines trying to stop this; out in the hot zone. Back off the Major. She's here to help. This is not what I expect of my Executive Officer or any of my officers for that matter. If you put a hand on her like that again, I will have you detained."

"But Major Koch-"

"I will speak with the Major regarding this incident." Chandler closed the space between them, dropping his shoulders as he paused. Clearly his XO was distressed, regretting his decision to act in such a fashion. "I need my XO to-"

"Fall in line right?" Slattery tensed rather seethed with eyes narrowing at his CO. "Like a good XO is supposed to. Don't question his commanding officer's orders. We should just get over the fact that we were lied to!? What's not to say Major Koch isn't hiding something from us!?"

"Mike," Chandler began to say but Slattery cut him off.

"I get it." Slattery turned for the door, pausing to turn his upper body around. A strange smile cracked his lips as if he was in disbelief. "You really think that Major Koch will help? That she can provide something more to this?"

"Why would she lie Mike? She's been stuck on Cuba for God knows how long. No access to phones, Internet, or radio contact. Her equipment and samples were lost, yes. But she still has a brain; a brain that has more information about this than us. If we had stopped in Jacksonville, we wouldn't have the Major and what she knows about this."

* * *

 

"Thanks for taking me to get something...clean." The Major had her arms jutted out, keeping the fresh scented shirts, pants, underwear, socks, towels, and washcloth away from the taint of the bloodied sand top. To compliment the tidy stack was a small sack that had a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, razor, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, and soap; gathered from the ship's store. The younger woman noticed how she carried it like a crate of eggs.

"You're welcome," Foster smiled as they headed for the showers. "How long were you out there? I mean before the Captain found you."

"Honestly," the Major attempted to recall, "I lost track after one week. I guess when al Qaeda assholes are setting traps for you, time takes a backseat."

"Oh," Foster felt slightly embarrassed for asking.

"Hey, don't feel like you did something wrong in asking," the Major shook her head. "After a while days and nights kind of melted together. It'll be nice to have some sort of structure again. Even if it is in a fully encapsulated suit. So, when's the next meal? Bananas and mangoes every day with a few rations raided from the warehouse grew pretty tiresome in a hurry. Not to mention how it played Hell on my insides."

The sudden shift in subject sliced through the uneasiness that surrounded Foster and the smile returned.

"Officers take their meals in the Wardroom and enlisted take theirs in the General Mess. Three meals daily with the galley being open 24 hours."

"So no one will freak out if I happen to pop in with the enlisted and catch a bite at say 2 AM?"

"No ma'am," she smiled again.

"Don't call me ma'am; it makes me feel old. Call me Major or Alex. My cohorts at USAMRIID called me Alex."

"Alright, Major," they arrived at their destination. "When you're done, I'll take you to your stateroom."

"I get my own room!?" The bewildered expression was hard not to smile about.

"Yes, you get your own cabin. Your bag was placed in there already by the MSs."

The Major's face fell then quickly picked up.

"Is something wrong Major?" Foster caught the brief darkness.

"What?" The Major shook her head. "Oh, no, it was just I wasn't expecting someone to do that; that's all. I guess I'll get cleaned up then get my hands dirty so to speak."

The Major slipped through the door with ease, wondering how the taller women and men made it through some of the smaller openings without hitting their heads. Surely they had on more than one occasion. When she had visited the USS Missouri, her dad had bumped his head on the descent from the deck.

She paused, studying the simple layout: Dual showers side by side with identical yellow tan curtains. Rubber mats lined the pinhead textured flooring. A set of identical stainless steel sinks stood to the right with institutional size mirrors perched six inches exactly over both. Placing her bundle on the bench, the Major began the joyous task of peeling the weeks of filth away. Would it be worth having these laundered? It may not hurt. It was only blood and dirt. The boots were shucked and dropped under the bench with the thick socks, cammo pants, and finally the notorious dirty shirt. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, seeing a stranger staring back.

With caution she approached, noting how her movements were mirrored by the other. The haunted look aged the otherwise strong features. The defined jaw and neck caked in a medium grade layer of mire. Arms scratched up from expeditions into the underbrush and fencing of the base, save for the unsullied badge of honor. Doc Rios had the foresight to use waterproof tape and bandaging. Her head titled upright, angling down to the disfigured strip of flesh; a reminder of what she had endured in Columbia. Slowly she brought up her right index finger, letting it swipe over the dead trail for a few moments.

The shades of sapphire continued their investigation, tracking down the center, along the sternum, then pausing at the fresher injury just above her left hip bone. It still hurt, sometimes, but it had fallen silent. The lack of medical supplies outside the hospital had left her exposed to infection. It was a little memento from her abrupt arrival to Gitmo.

* * *

 

_The trip back had been rough._

_Turbulence had been their constant companion since departing Georgetown; rocking the Gulfstream C-20 the instant they reached cruising altitudes. Her shoulder throbbed like a drum; a departing gift courtesy of the Patria cartel a few years back. Every so often it would flare up, burn like a nighttime fire for a few weeks then go still for an unknown period of time. Though the scar, which stood out like a lone peak across a prairie, was something of a symbol of sorts. Her colleagues had jokingly said she earned her own red badge of courage in the jungles of Central Colombia. To the Major, it was another day in the office. It wasn't the first nor would it be the last time she would have a gun trained on her. It was the price of doing fieldwork in some of the most dangerous corners of the world._

_In 2000, she had been part of a team that delved into the heart of Iraq, seeking out any, if such existed, evidence of an active biological weapons program. Two centrifuges and 10 test tubes of non-viable spores was not what she would've considered evidence of anything other than something a high school or basic level college microbiology lab would have. Several of the older, seasoned "experts" had been resentful of her very presence; one from her own station! Well they could go fuck themselves as she had told one one late night after an exhaustive search of a suspected lab. Now...Now they were all dead. The Major couldn't express any form of elation or relief they were no longer alive but rather pity. They had not listened to Dr. Scott when this was in the early stages; when it was an isolated outbreak in Giza, Egypt. It would be like SARS! They expected it to hit a viral roadblock then die out a few months later._

_They were wrong..._

_They were all dead wrong..._

_She, along with a few others, were the only ones left who could run SAM without hesitation. The samples procured from the victims of the Ramses strain were different than what she had back at the lab. It brought the total up to 6; 6 strains that existed. But one of them stood out. One was altered by human intervention. Someone had been tinkering with this virus. What was she not surprised by this? Of course some asshole would do it. No different than with antrhax, smallpox, plague, and a plethora of other biological agents that were altered to suit the needs of governments hell bent on mutually assured destruction._

_"Major," the pilot's voice crackled over the headset._

_"Major Koch," she responded._

_"We're having problems with Engine 2. We're en route to Guantanamo Bay."_

_"You gotta be kidding me right?! I have samples that are time and temperature sensitive! We need to get back to Maryland!"_

_Before she could issue another protest, the plane dropped vertically, pressure dropping rapidly in the cabin. The Major's hands clawed the arm rests with legs braced against the base of the seat. The muscles in her forearms, calves, and thighs screamed as lactic acid accumulated from the pressure weighed upon them. Somehow, she managed to summon the will to peer out the window. The dawn was breaching the horizon, outlining the coast of Cuba. Below the small island of urbanization known as Guantanamo Bay hugged the coast and immediate areas. She couldn't comprehend what was going on on the ground, her mind locked in a perpetual state of terror. The abrupt brush of the oxygen mask didn't pull her back but her hands automatically gathered the hard plastic apparatus, securing it around her face. Her were robotic and blocky as the band was tightened at the back of her head. Slowly she inhaled, realizing she had not been breathing but holding in._

_This was it._

_She was going to die in a fiery crash on a goddamn island! Cuba on top of that!_

_At least she would be reunited with everyone she lost. Family, friends...Mark. Yes, he would be the first one waiting with arms wide open and that stunning smile that had won her over that first night they met._

_He was waiting for her._

_The pain would be severe, enough to drive her temporarily mad. Her body would be racked with such unspeakable pain and agony but it wouldn't be long. It's not like cancer or Alzheimer's which took its sweet time eating away mind body and soul. Unconsciousness would be her ally. It would ferry her across the bridge into the sweet arms of Death. No more pain. No more pestilence. No more affliction._

_"I'm coming," she breathed and let the smile gather as she slowly shut her eyes. Her body went limp against the cushions. "I'm coming."_

* * *

 

The Major scrubbed her face then pushed off the edge of the sink. She had survived the crash. The pilot, co-pilot, and Dr. Jenner had perished. It had been unknown if they were in pain or had gone fast for she had been knocked unconscious on impact.

"Snap out of Major," she chided herself while drawing the curtain across.

* * *

 

It was strange, being clean and in clothing that didn't have the blood of your enemy on it. The shirt was roomy; a navy blue short sleeved shirt with the iconic outline of the James and the words "USS Nathan James DDG 151" adorning the top and bottom plastered on the back. The Major leaned her head right, letting her nose bury into the soft materiel. Mmmm it was heaven. The underwear was a bit snug but she wasn't going to complain. The items that had passed as clothes were in the process of being laundered; if they could be called that.

"A real bed," she collapsed onto the bunk, diving face down into the pillow. Beat using a duffel bag any day! The thin sheet rubbed against her legs, another stimulation of regaining her sensation of humanity. A few moments wouldn't hurt. A few precious moments spent just being human.

"No," her body swung upright with legs dangling over the edge. "Have to get back to work." The Major spied her bag on the metal framed chair, resting against the vinyl backing. She rose, hearing her knee joints crack like fireworks though it didn't hurt. Cradling the precious baggage in her lap, she tugged at the partially scorched zipper. The laptop was unscathed; the only thing to survive the crash. She had been clutching it to her chest with such viciousness not even Tex could have pried it from her iron hold. He didn't ask what it was, respecting her privacy.

There was an outlet on the wall under the drab desk. Uncertainty loomed given there had been no power on the island. Everything could be lost.

"Don't even think like that," she snapped at herself. "Don't EVER let yourself think like that again."

She had purchased the HP prior to her departure. It had the Kansas State mascot sticker on it; her Alma matter. It took a moment once she plugged it in, waiting for the machine to warm up. She shivered involuntarily, reacting to the dry chilled environment. She had been acclimated to hot and humid with her time in Guiana and Cuba but had been abruptly thrust into cool and dry. The Major rubbed her arms creating little friction but it was short lived.

The log in screen came up. Like riding a bike she recited the password with ease. Next, she sifted through a smaller pocket. The 16 GB flash drive was still in one piece. Her left hand shifted and moved it around, allowing her eyes to assess any But there was only one way to know what it held was still viable.

She clicked on the folder labeled G: Lexar. So far so good. Next she sorted through the neatly organized files. He research on the 6 strains were accessible. Relief was trickling in but she withheld complete elation.

"Here we go," her finger glided over the mouse pad, double clicking on the right button. She waited and watched the files come up one by one until all 20 of them were present. Like soldiers in roll call, each one answered when highlighted and summoned. "Everything's here." Now she could drop in the seat. "It's all here."

The tension that coiled in her chest lifted giving her lungs the sweet air it had withheld.

It had been difficult to not share in the Captain's longings as she too desired an end to this. The way his eyes lit up, although fleetingly, when he declared that she and Rachel were going to save them all had sent a minute charge up then down her back, igniting the nerves in a long forgotten sensation.

Maybe there was hope for them.

Captain Chandler thought so.

* * *

 

"Rachel!"

Rachel pulled her attention from the computer and to her newest team member. In her hands were two mugs with an equally sweet smile.

"I thought you could use some green tea. I got it from the Wardroom so it may not be what you're used to."

"Alex, you didn't have to." She gratefully accepted the offering. Hydration was essential. The lab was kept dry, like the winter air back home in Britain. It robbed the nose mouth and throat of moisture which created entry ways for every flu, virus, and seasonal infection that traversed the masses.

"Well since we're parked here in scenic Guantanamo Bay, I thought a small break would be in order. Besides, you can catch me up on what you've found out and I can fill in the blanks for you. Unfortunately I lost a lot of my work when my flight went down." The Major paused, taking a short ship of the savory brew. "Did you find it?"

"I did. It was in the Arctic like I suspected." Excitement elevated her voice. "But we nearly lost them."

"What do you mean?" Why did she even ask that question.

"The Russians showed up on the tundra. Quincy and I were in the middle of fleeing when I fell and the case was nearly lost."

"Jesus," the Major shook her head. If she wasn't clutching the mug in her hand she would've made two tight fists and slammed one into desk. "Goddamn Ruskov. Had to be him unless there's another Russian ship floating around somewhere. But I highly doubt that."

"Well Captain Chandler wasn't exactly thrilled either. He threatened to throw the case overboard after we returned. Said that a bunch of vials of ice weren't worth losing his men over or igniting World War III. I had to tell him the truth after that. Angry would be a kind way of describing his reaction."

"What the FUCK was his thinking!? I suppose that made you the ship's pariah. I should talk to the Captain. Tell him I was the one that lined up his ship for this. I was one of the team that ordered this. Maybe it'll take some of the burden off of you. It's not fair you take the heat alone. I can handle it."

"Well he accused me of being the reason he had 'started' war with Russia because they were after us. But it turns out a faction broke off from the government."

"Yeah I saw a lot of that happening in the Third World and even beginning in the European nations before I left. I bet Ruskov is operating under his authority. But it doesn't explain how he knew we were here. No one outside of Tex knew I was at Gitmo and the only people who knew you're here are on this ship or dead."

"Right," Rachel wondered where she was going with this.

"Someone's a mole. Either he got to someone or he's just damn good at tracking us. I'm not a gambling soul but I wager it's the former. Only thing is we don't know who or where they are. They could be alive on the mainland with open comms or it could be more than one person scattered across this damn planet. RUSSIANS!"

"Alex, if I may ask, why do you seem to know about Ruskov or what he is like?"

The Major placed her mug down and pulled up a seat beside Rachel. The glow of the computer screen paled her face and neck.

"My grandfather and dad were Navy. Dad had been involved in some exercises in which he crossed paths with Ruskov. I had the 'honor' of meeting him when I was a teenager. The man is a freaking genius when it comes to naval tactics. I got to see some of the war games and 80% of the time he outwit, outsmart, and outlasted the other navies. If he wanted to, he could vanish and become a ghost. He's shrewd, intelligent, and arrogant. It's that Cold War mentality; the Old Guard never died. I hope the Captain knows what he's getting himself into by playing tea party with him. Honestly, it's a waste of time. I wouldn't trust my dead grandmother with him."

She hurried to busy her mouth with the mug, catching the stunned expression on Rachel's normally calm facade.

"Why don't we get to work?"

"Yes, I agree," the Major nodded and polished the remaining 1/3 cup off. It had chilled but it was still delicious. "Start with what you've found out since leaving Norfolk."

* * *

 

"Tom, I'm not sure this is a good idea. I mean even Major Koch voiced concerns. That should count for something. Clearly she has some insight about him."

Chandler and Slattery were proceeding down the dock towards the end of the pier. The CO was in a biohazard suit, minus the mask. His arms and hands cradled a Carbine with muzzle down.

"Mike, Constantine Ruskov is a naval genius. He practically wrote the book on modern naval warfare."

"Gee why don't we get him to sign your copy."

Chandler halted, seeing the suspicion returning to his XO's eyes. Mike had fought him on nearly every decision, every call made after departing Florida. He pushed and Chandler pushed back with equal if not greater ferocity. The US Government was GONE. The last time they had heard anything from home had been over a week. Making difficult calls and orders was not what he had signed up for but it had to be done. It needed to be done.

"I know you're still upset about the decision to pull away from Florida. You've been resisting the entire way."

"Damn right I have been. We were given orders by the President."

"Orders that came 5 days after they were dispatched. No one is picking up in the Bunker. There is NO MORE government; no more command structure for us to fall back on which puts it on my shoulders."

Chandler shocked himself with his words. It was as if they were second nature; that he had been issuing these orders for years!

"Look, I need to look him in the eyes; look at him face to face."

Slattery was silent but to continue this argument was a moot point. Chandler was set in his plan to meet Ruskov. What could he possibly hope to accomplish? That son of a bitch wouldn't let them pass. He made it painfully clear he would destroy them before allowing the Nathan James to sail into the sunset.

They were sitting ducks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike, Mike, Mike......Will you learn NOT to piss off the Major?! She BITES!


	6. Oil & Water

_**Guantanamo Bay...One year earlier...** _

"For once, I agree with you."

XO Slattery looked sideways at the Major. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this statement. While he was bemoaning the fact the pain in the ass major was hanging around for a little longer he had to hear this.

"Like I told Captain Chandler, Ruskov is not stupid. We're wasting our time."

"He studied the man; even has a book Ruskov wrote all in Russian. I told him it wasn't a good idea."

"What is he hoping to achieve? Does the Captain even know what that is?!"

"I don't have the faintest idea. The only thing he said was he had to look him in the eye."

The Major shook her head, sighing loudly and in frustration.

"Shouldn't you be in the lab? I thought you were anxious to get back to work? To get back to whatever it was you were doing?" The snide remark caused the Major to narrow her eyes and twist her body around so her faced the other officers. Her shoulders turned pensive as muscle between the blades tensed.

"My samples, my work are being processed and when I mean processed I mean going through analysis. I have to wait so I figured I would come up here and make your life that much more miserable."

She added a bitchy smile to top it off. Slattery bit his tongue, wanting to lash out. But he refrained, finding every bit of will channeled into keeping collective.

"The faster you and Dr. Scott get a vaccine, the faster we can go home."

The air was charged between them. Both barreling one another with icy glances and rigid postures.

"Yeah, I completely agree on that. But, for now, you're going to have to just put up with us a little bit longer; have to see us each and every single day. Don't think for a minute that I'll shed any tears when we finally part ways."

"Feeling's mutual Major." Acid saturated each word that slipped between his lips.

Master Chief caught the heated exchange. The Major was walking away, keeping her posture tall and confident. XO wasted no time in forgetting her presence and scanning the bay. The way his jaw had clenched, threatening to lock together was seen when he was extremely bothered by something...or in this case someone. He worried for the young officer. The things she may have seen, heard, or experienced clearly wasn't contributing to her current state of mind. It wasn't helping she and the XO were at odds.

Lost...

That was the word he was thinking of.

The Major was lost only she didn't know it or want to admit it. The adage of oil and water swirled in his thoughts. That's exactly what those two were.

* * *

 She reached her cabin and slowly shut the door; locking it so she wouldn't be disturbed. The small shoulder bag sat on the bottom bunk with the Army insignia etched proudly on the front. The Major felt her upper torso drop, releasing the strain between her shoulders. Fucking XO! She attempts to be civil and he acts like a dick. No surprise there!

"Not going to let him get to me. Nope. He is so NOT worth the energy," she shook her head but it was easier said than done. It was akin to having bile breach the back of the mouth and tongue or a hemorrhoid perhaps. Still, there was work to be done.

The Major clutched the tiger top Vacutainer tubes, red top plastic tubes, holder, and needle, laying them out in a neat row along the sink. Next, she retrieved the alcohol swabs and placed them alongside the tubes. It had been easy, swiping the needle, tubes, holder, and swabs from Doc Rios's supply.

_"Alright," Doc Rios secured the final strip of tape on her arm. "Leave this on for the next 10 days. Then come back down and I'll remove the stitches."_

_"Right," she sighed and leaned back against the chair. The doc gave a short smile then departed to examine Chief Engineer Garnett and Cruz. Rachel was fussing over Tex who continued to behave like a five year old. he Major was left alone. No one paid attention to her._

_It was as if she was back in high school again. The juvenile delinquent. Always up to a challenge._

_This time it was testing supplies. When she was 16, her skills had been perfected on lifting small items at first. Trinkets and other cheap plastic goods that somehow found their way into her pocket. Then it graduated to clothing. Her brush with the law had come when she was brazen enough to attempt to swipe a 60 dollar bra from Victoria's Secret. The clerk, no older than 21 at least, had been rough in her grip, digging into the slender wrist leaving narrow bands of rose. Being dragged out in cuffs for all in the mall to see didn't affect her. The ride in the cop car had not cracked her youthful hubris. In fact, she had begged the cops to whip on the lights and sirens with an almost maniacal glee. The cocky smirk plastered wide on her lightly freckled face didn't falter once._

_It had been when she came face to face with her father that it sunk like a rock. An officer's child being entangled with the law could spell disaster. His CO could easily demote him or worse! She had taken her game one step too far. Her mother shrieked and cried like she was mourning her daughter's death though she was seated a few feet away at the kitchen table. Surprisingly, she hadn't ripped her hair out ...yet..._

_That had been the beginning of her journey from societal burden to government burden. Her grandfather came up with the brilliant idea to sit her down before a microscope the summer she had been arrested. Her whole world changed. Priorities and goals replaced childish wants and foolish desires. The microscopic world was hers._

_Now she was on the Nathan James; using those same drives to find a way to keep humanity from going the way of the dodo bird. Rachel had voiced her enthusiasm for getting closer to a breakthrough. But they didn't know what exactly the gene inserted into the virus was. The Major remained steadfast in her conviction it had been weaponized and not something that slipped out from a lab on accident. Then again, that was how the Major viewed the world. Things didn't happen by chance. There was always a plausible explanation for the outbreaks and emerging infections. The Ramses strain was no different._

_Blinking twice, the Major pretended to stretch and crack her neck before rising and slipping behind the door._

_Time was short and she had to act fast._

_The swabs were easy to spot; top cabinet peeking through the glass pane. Hurrying, she pocketed a small stack and spotted the Vacutainer holder. That went into her right pocket. The door latched with a soft click but no one indicated they heard such. Next, she riffled through the top drawer, finding bandages, tape, and gauze. Cursing under her breath she dove into the middle. Yes! Needles and tubes. Collecting her bounty, the Major slipped the drawer shut, wincing at the soft whine of metal against metal._

_"What's going on?" Doc Rios could be hear rising from his chair in the adjacent room. The Major thought fast, lining up against the counter and twisting her back left then right. The doc hurried in to find his ambulatory patient bumping into the counter with her hip._

_"Sorry Doc," she felt her face turning red. Her heart was hammering but that couldn't be detected if one went on her outward appearance. "I was stretching from being in that chair for so long and I hit my elbow on the edge. I'll be heading out."_

_"Right," he nodded but hesitated before returning to his other patients._

Making a fist was easy. The veins in both arms were what the nurses back at USAMRIID referred to as arm porn. Arm porn! A nice way of saying many places to stab or poke her! The Major thought it was only made in reference to men but when it came to the medical field, gender was not a factor. She swept the area with a swab in several circular motions before putting the needle and holder together. Taking a deep breath, the Major aimed the hollow point for the narrow river of blue. The needle tore a hole with ease, breaching the layers of skin. The tube was thrust into the holder, hungrily accepting the red ore. The narrow stream pulsed in cadence with her heart, quickening then falling with each beat. It was fascinating, really, to watch a simple wonder of the human body. It was in times of crisis she found herself making such observations.

She repeated this process, letting all the glass and plastic vials house the thick swirls of cells, blood, plasma, DNA, and the billions of other equally important components.

"Let's hope I'm right," she talked herself up while retracting the needle. The hiss slipped from her mouth. It always hurt more when it was coming out! Never failed. But it was a minor inconvenience when looking at what was at stake.

Gathering the evidence of her deed, the Major stashed it in a bag before securing it in her cargo pants before taking off.

* * *

 The lab was quiet. Rachel was nowhere to be found and Qunicy was with the Captain's group. Quickly she donned her suit, keeping an eye on the tubes as they rested next to the satellite phone. Once she was ready to go, her hand cradled the precious cargo until they were nestled in the new centrifuge procured from the hospital pharmacy. It wasn't really new but for them it was a godsend.

The time was set for 10 minutes; the standard for running blood samples to properly separate. While the machine conducted its song of high whirling and whizzing, the Major took the opportunity to scope out the lab. It was smart using the helo bay for it. They had negative pressure set up to keep any virus particles from escaping. The plastic was flexible but restrained by the usual red bio tape. It was a nothing short of a miracle the set up was holding. The fume hood was to her right; loaded with tube racks which each had samples of different dilutions and strains. She encroached, wondering just what they had been working on since their communications had been severed. All she knew was that they had the primordial strain, the strain obtained from an Egyptian patient at the start of the pandemic, and from a dying Italian man aboard a luxury liner drifting listlessly off the coast of France. That was three strains. The Major had isolated six including the one that had been altered.

It was a billionth of their size and it scared the shit out of her.

But viruses were the perfect killing machine.

Neither living nor dead, they were simply genetic material that had the instinct to seek a compatible host, infect it, and replicate more of itself. Basic but efficient.

Perhaps that was what drew her into its domain. It was a challenge.

The series of clicks and gradual decrease in the speed alerted her to the end of the cycle.

"Finally," she hurried over and carefully plucked a tube out one at a time. The factionation process had done its work. Three distinct layers resided in all three tubes: The clear to pale yellow layer, plasma, rested on top with a a narrow band of buff or whitish tan color, called the buff layer, pinched between it and the final layer, the red blood cells.

"Let's rock," she nodded to herself and placed each tube in a vacant row of a rack.

* * *

 "Out of the frying pan huh fellas?!" Tex marched out with a shit eating grin plastered on his face. Green and Burk stared disbelievingly at their newest comrade.

"You're coming too?" Burke was taken aback but his reaction didn't hamper Tex's bright disposition.

"Captain thought I could be useful since you're all in my backyard. The Cantina's where we'll be heading. Old Juan Carlo made the BEST carnitas locos around!" Damn how Tex missed those spicy greasy rolls of tortilla, cheese, pork, and few extra spices to boot. His mouth watered as his senses played out the nostalgic aromas.

"God help us," Green shook his head and fastened the strap on his helmet. Tex laughed heartily as he descended the ladder to the rip. Green and Burk traded glances before each took their turn down.

* * *

* * *

 The bio suits were stifling the recon team but each man didn't pay heed to the gathering beads of sweat along their torsos, legs, arms, asses, and feet. Admiral Halsey was panting hard, taking each breath hard and fast. German Shepherds were not built for these climates. Tex wasn't bothered by the extreme concentrations of moisture but Berchem and Smith were sweating like two hookers in a church. The Captain, despite his initial discomforts, tolerated the oppressive conditions. Made the contractor ponder if the man even had sweat glands!

"It's this way," Tex pointed to the left.

"Smith, Berchem establish the perimeter; everyone, masks up." It wasn't necessary to use a hardened tone in dispensing orders. The team fell in, fitting their masks, now set with FR 15-CBRN canisters. Major Koch had reassured him prior to departing they would be sufficient in keeping them safe. The Cadillac of filters was what she referred to them as.

Once masks were on, the team proceeded with caution, a well oiled machine so to speak. Chandler took lead with the others falling back but close if their commander needed help. The Cantina was a dilapidated hut if one was to base assertions on the exterior persona it projected. The roof was rustic, if one could call it such. The sides were whitewashed with a few windows that were dingy on the outside. Chandler approached the door, turned the knob and slowly crossing over into a wider accommodating area.

Pool tables were lined up two by two with balls and sticks left as though waiting for their patrons to return to resume the games abandoned. Sunlight breached the dirty and grime plastered on the glass, casting enough light for the team lay eyes upon the group at ease around a single table.

Vice Admiral Constantine Ruskov poured a plentiful serving of vodka from the nearby bar, taking a few moments to glance up to see the heavily suited and masked men fanning out before him. He laughed inwardly at their over-zealousness. His right hand occupied with a Cuban cigar.

"You can drop the masks, we're not infected." The thick Slavic accent carried upon the air. "It must be hot in those costumes no?"

Tex rolled his eyes, glad no one could see his face at that particular instance. If the Major had been here she would've said something snide. Good thing she wasn't.

"We'll test you all the same." Chandler insisted. Ruskov obliged, humoring the American by depositing the cigar into an ash tray and rolling up his left sleeve. Dr. Tophet took two steps forward, freezing at the sudden action of guns drawn and cocked. His eyes nervously counted five but he succeeded in finding his voice.

"I'm not armed," the Brit insisted and lifted his hands as a show of good faith. Ruskov nodded, catching the hatred simmering in the brown pools. He motioned with a finger to the man, acknowledging him like a peon.

"Stand down," his men obeyed. Like the good little sailors they were they heeded their commander's orders. Dr. Tophet readied the rapid test kit.

"Make a fist," he put every drop of disgust and venom he could into his demand.

"How can you wear those costumes in this heat? Still, better than the Arctic no?"

"If I recall the Arctic was bad for both of us Admiral. You lost five airships." Chandler couldn't but help to dig that little fact in.

"Helicopters are easy to replace Commander," Ruskov dismissed the pathetic attempt. "Look around you," he leaned back and gestured with his arms in a grand sweep of the space around him, "The world is ours for the taking." The smug expression resurfaced. The short beep of the rapid test broke the looming tension between the two factions.

"He's clean," Dr. Tophet announced.

"You see," Ruskov laughed, knowing it would be what he told the stubborn Americans in the beginning. "Clean!"

Chandler removed his mask with the team following his example. The repugnant stench of the cigar irritated his nose. But his face stayed stone cold. He had studied this man, even admired him to a degree for his intelligence and tactical genius but now, he was slowly thinking otherwise.

"You're wondering, and I know you are, about how is it we're still alive and not dead like our comrades." Ruskov continued taking shots of vodka. "Unlike you and your little war games, there was a recall order for all ships and personnel to return to home ports. But I knew if we were to survive this plague we had to remain out to sea. I took it upon myself to remain out to sea. So what you see is the last of the great Russian Navy. Of course there may be others out there but we haven't seen them. So the uniform you see matters no more."

Green and Burk couldn't believe the arrogance of this man!

"It matters to me," Chandler dead panned. "Whether mine is the last or one of several ships remaining in the United States Navy."

"Of course you are. Still, we're alive and it is cause for celebration," Ruskov offered a loaded shot glass but Chandler stared at it like it was poison.

"You have a funny way of showing it. Dropping a nuke on France? Tell me Admiral, how many people do you think you killed? Five? Ten million?"

That seemed to strike a nerve with the older man as he bristled and straightened in his seat.

"France was already dead. That missile was fired to keep you from refueling and sneaking back home with the vaccine. Do you have any idea what was going on while you were up in the Arctic playing your little war games?" Sarcasm was one of his tongues it seemed as the men caught it plain as the jungle rain. "The virus, Ramses strain, spread like an invisible wildfire. The fear was further reaching than the virus itself. I'm sure Major Koch and Dr. Scott highlighted some of the finer acts of man."

"What do you mean?" Steel blue narrowed into identical daggers.

"Don't play coy Commander. Do you really think that governments were taking care of their people!? That they were doing all they could to keep them safe!? That is naïve in thinking. They were killing their own people!" His fist slammed on the table, rattling the cigar and shot glasses. Droplets of precious vodka splashed along the rims with a few splattering on the dirty green. "In China, 60 million people were slaughtered. Culled like little piglets. In Brasil, the slums were set ablaze with people inside. 5 million were burned alive. The screams of the dying playing painfully upon those who were sent to carry out the task. In South Africa they were gunning people down who attempted to breach the so called safe zones. It didn't matter if they were infected or not. Bodies piled up like mountains. Families killed their own blood. So you tell me if the world is still worth saving."

"I believe it is. The vaccine is for the world."

Ruskov shook his head, nauseated at this heroic but stupid response. "So what you want to keep the vaccine for yourself?"

"What I want is of no concern to you." Ruskov put the cigar out then polished off his final round.

"Well we don't have a vaccine. At least not yet."

"Besides, Dr. Scott and Major Koch are lacking an important component to creating a vaccine that only I possess. Now you will give me what I want: The primordial strain, all of your research, Dr. Scott, and Major Koch. Speaking of which, how is the Major? I imagine she is still a pain the ass as she was at 17."

A narrow smile cracked Ruskov's lips as he saw the shift in temperament.

"Ah, she still is." He chuckled.

"You won't fire on my ship as long as we have what you want. This game of chicken you're playing will only cause millions more deaths. So how about I leave here with my best offer."

The Russians drew their guns with ease as Chandler reached into the pouch. Green, Burk, Berchem, Smith, and Tex returned the gesture with their automatic weapons trained and ready. Hearts were racing and sweat beading across skin but no one fired. Chandler took a long drawn out breath and placed the tin given to him by the Major.

"A sample of the primordial virus with my compliments." His finger tapped randomly on the top. His hope was Ruskov would accept it and move on.

The cruel laugh cracked the Russian's lips. "No, sorry Commander as that will not do. Not do at all."

"You aren't getting them or the research."

Ruskov leaned in, piercing Chandler's stare with his own hardened expression. "Don't be foolish Commander. You cannot win. We will send you out on a mushroom cloud."

"You heard the Captain, Boris," Tex interrupted with a bit of glee. "You're not getting our scientists."

"That is a shame then." Ruskov shook his head, disappointed in this road Chandler was taking.

"I'll go! I'll go! Take me! I know how to run the machinery and what to do-" Dr. Tophet volunteered, offering himself in lieu of Rachel only to have a chilly reception from Ruskov. The pain in his eyes only made the Russian smirk, compounding the man's misery.

"No! No you will not do! Dr. Rachel Scott and Major Alexandra Koch are the ones."

"We'll that's not going to happen." Chandler remained steadfast in his resolve.

"We can outlast you! We have enough nuclear fuel on our ship to patrol the harbor for the next 25 years!" Ruskov leaned back with the joints in the seat groaning at the pressure.

Chandler swiped the tin and rose from his seat. He countered with a bit of pretension, "And how are you going to feed your men when the Americans have all of the food on the island?"

Ruskov looked to one of his officers. "Peter, pistol." The Russian didn't hesitate to pass the firearm over to his superior. Without hesitation he put the muzzle to Peter's temple and pulled the trigger. Blood, bone, and brain matter splattered the wall like a macabre Picasso. The remaining officers were paralyzed; in disbelief over what had transpired. Their eyes registered the body of their fallen comrade but their brains couldn't and wouldn't accept it. He was one of the Admiral's trusted officers! Why?!

"One less mouth to feed," his defense was cold like the Russian winters with eyes matching the tone. Chandler felt his heart stop. This man, this military genius he admired to a certain level had stooped to a degree lower than swamp scum! A coward's act!

"Let's go."

* * *

 The Major began with growing the primordial virus in culture. Viruses, unlike bacteria and fungi, required different means to thrive and replicate in. Where plates provided the ideal habitat, viruses required additional finesse in that regard. Where jelled agar appeased the bacteria and fungi, living cells were required to sate a virus. She prepared a row of eight tubes with cell lines that would provide the perfect breeding grounds for the strain. The rack would be imbedded with the others, but just enough out of the main line of activity that her samples wouldn't be adulterated.

To keep her activities low key, she took samples from each tube, keeping the levels consistent. One plastic pipette per tube and done. Now she had to wait and let the virus proliferate. It would take several hours, perhaps a day but at least she was getting back on track. The diversion to Guantanamo Bay and the ensuing loss of her work took her back at least a month. Time was the enemy.

Her thought drifted to the small group of men who had deployed back to the base. Had they been successful? Would they be allowed to leave this godforsaken place? Sadly, the nagging voice front and center in her head carried a sadistic tune.

_Not gonna happen! Not gonna happen! Not gonna happen!_

Waiting was the game now. She had to acquire enough of the strains to conduct the next step in her work. The tubes with the freshly segregated layers of her blood would be alright for now. She spotted a space in the back of one of the coolers that Quincy and Rachel would overlook. With the main bulk of their samples up front, they wouldn't bother to check the far back.

Quickly, she gathered the tubes and slipped the small rack in the center row, along the back wall. A small half smile broke the somber surface as she secured the door.

"Major Koch," the Captain's voice boomed over the headset. She jumped an inch from the floor, finding the CO's handsome features darkened. Her heart accelerated at the sight, knowing that look as she had been on the receiving end of it from her dad on more than one occasion: She was in some kind of trouble. What had she done this time!? Was XO Slattery's panties in a bunch?

"Sir," her voice rattled.

"When you finish up, your presence is requested in the Wardroom." That wasn't a request. She forced the burgeoning lump in her throat back down, attempting to calm her shaky nerves.

"Of course," her words staggered as anxiety washed over like waves. Chandler turned and marched away, leaving her alone. The Major looked down, discovering her hands were trembling. She snapped her wrists, hoping the sharp crack would cease the jitters. "Damn it," she resorted to curling her hands to fists with fingers contracting and expanding. "Get a grip. You haven't done anything wrong." With a inhale of filtered air, she made her way out to dress down.

* * *

 Her body never abated in tormenting her. It only worsened the closer she approached the door. No need to be afraid. She could run with the big boys! There was no way in Hell they were going to bully her! Blocking the insecurities, the Major twisted the handle and made her way inside.

Chandler and Slattery jerked their heads up to see the Major coming in.

"Major, shut the door." Chandler spoke in a quiet tone, a stark contrast to the harsh pitch utilized an hour prior. He watched as she shifted her weight and crossed her arms uncomfortably.

"How does Ruskov know you?" Slattery didn't hesitate. His toned physique pressed against the back of the chair. "Because he sure seems to know who you are."

"What is this an inquisition?" The Major darted her eyes nervously between the two men.

"Ruskov mentioned knowing you at the age of 17. Why is that?"

The Major shook her head and flung her hands up as if to say 'seriously?!'

"We asked you a question Major Koch. Now answer it," XO Slattery was digging his fingers into the back of the leather cushion. "Why does Ruskov know you?"

"You two think I'm in cahoots with him is that it?" Her anger surged until it simmered beneath the surface. Now her hands shook in anger. "Because I'm NOT."

"Why should we believe you Major? We don't know you." The XO continued, thriving in watching her squirm.

"Why would I be XO?" She fell back to her defensive stance. It was her survival mechanism. "Why would I want to work with someone who is Hell bent on sinking us? What in the HELL would make you think that?!"

"You tell us!"

"What would I have to gain!? I lost EVERYTHING and EVERYONE I loved!" Her voice cracked. The whites of her eyes streaked with minute trails of red.

"That's the point. You have nothing to lose now. Why not go for the hat trick? Hmmmm? A little double agent work?"

"That's low," she pointed her finger at him. "But if you wanna play that card I can do it too. How about your family XO? Are they dead? Did they make it to a safe zone?"

"You're out of line Major!" Slatter pushed away from the chair and began to round the table.

"Did I hit a nerve XO?" She stood a little taller in challenge.

"Enough!" Chandler hollered over them possibly breaching the door for anyone passing by to hear. Both froze at his command. Slattery faced his CO while the Major went rigid with arms hanging at her sides. Neither one escaped the cold fire raging in his eyes.

"Ruskov met me when I was 17. My dad was part of a series of joint naval exercises in the Pacific. He served on the USS Antietam which was a part of the dog and pony show. I crossed paths with him at one of the dinners that was being hosted for all of the personnel. Yes, he saw me when I was an juvenile pain in the ass. When I was a teen I acted out...A LOT. He got a glimpse of my colorful persona. There! Does that make you happy now?"

She felt the iron wall corroding and leaned against the closest chair.

"He probably said that to plant a seed of doubt in your minds. He wants that. He wants you to turn on me so you'll cut me loose. Please," she shook her head and stared at the speckled gold scatted across Carolina blue. "Please don't doubt me. XO, I told you before I left Bethesda I found out someone was keeping tabs on Rachel and I. You gotta believe me!" Her head lifted up showing the clear streaks staining her cheeks and neck. "I want to find out who and why. Rachel and I want to create a vaccine for the world. We WANT to save humanity."

"Well, that's very impassioned," Slatter just glared.

"Who are you gonna believe XO? A Russian who would rather destroy put a bullet to the head of one of his officers to make a point? Or me? You really don't have much of a choice."

"Major," Chandler stepped in and passed a box of tissues over. "I think you have said enough." He went to get her a cup of coffee.

"Now I know how Rachel feels," she collapsed in the seat. Chandler passed the mug across, sliding it over instead of letting her take it with unstable hands. "Thanks."

Just then the good doctor made an appearance. She immediately picked up on the uneasiness in the air.

"Dr. Scott," he acknowledged the civilian.

"What's going on?" She didn't have to be told there had been a confrontation as the Major's face and posture said it all.

"Ruskov said you and Major Koch were missing someone or something to make the vaccine. Do either one of you have any idea what that or who could be?" Chandler was more subtle in his approach. Rachel looked to the Major who shook her head and took another drink. XO Slattery was hurling daggers at her but remained quiet.

"He's bluffing." She spat. "He's hoping we'll fall for it."

"What could he have that we would need?" The Major spoke up. Her voice was solid. "I can't think of anything or anyone. All of our colleagues are dead and the only people who know about the research are on this ship. Well, who's still alive that is."

"What do we need to do?" Rachel asked the obvious.

"You said you're making progress on the vaccine. You and the Major keep working at it. That's all we ask of you."

"Sounds good to me," the Major muttered in her drink. She caught the incredulous stare Slattery was casting at them both. "I can help Dr. Scott interpret the data."

"Fair enough," Chandler nodded. The Major finished off her coffee and followed Rachel out the door.

* * *

Once they returned to the lab, Rachel caught the Major by the shoulder. "Alex, what happened in there?"

"Slattery being a dick. That's what happened. He accused me of being in bed with Ruskov. It seems our local neighborhood whack job dredged up the past which only created mistrust." She shrugged it off like water on a duck's back. "And Slattery decided to interrogate me. Well, I threw his shit back in his face and he didn't like it."

"Can't blame you," Rachel snorted. "He's had it out for me since the Russians showed up on the ice."

"How you haven't blown up at him is impressive. I guess you have more resolve than I do."

Together they entered the lab and went to work.


	7. Plan B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback.......
> 
> The crew attempts to stall the Russians......

_**United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases...One and half years ago...** _

The day started out as any other.

The beautiful rumble of the Harley signaled to the gate guards Major Koch was reporting for duty. The skies were dark with the strongest stars penetrating the light pollution of Hagerstown to the northwest and Baltimore to the east. It wasn't unusual to see her arriving at unusual hours but it was the tempo of the engine that caused the men to fixate their stare on the approaching cycle. It was barreling down, at least 45 mph where it was 35. The last time the Major had done this was when H1N1 breached American soil.

Brakes screeched, burning rubber with a few wisps of smoke billowing in the breeze.

"Major Koch," the older man found his voice angrier than what he desired. The visor flipped up, showing off the somber expression. Heavy crescents dragged the naturally bright sapphires down, aging her face by at least a few decades.

"Sorry," she sighed and retrieved her ID card. "Is Colonel Schuler here?"

"Yes ma'am. He arrived an hour ago." He passed the card back over to which she stuffed in her jacket pocket.

"Thank you," the visor snapped down. The gate retracted with painfully slow only amplifying Major Koch's anxieties. "Finally," she groaned in the confines of her helmet and rolled on.

Colonel Casey Schuler was seated at his desk. The lone light cast a sickly glow over the faxes, print offs, and files scattered in a organized system of chaos. The CDC was preparing to dispatch a small team overseas to Egypt as reports of a new virus surfaced in a camp outside of Giza. One of their sentinels had detected the cluster of cases three days ago, sending out the red alert to everyone on staff.

"Jesus," he cursed under his breath. This virus was nothing like anything he had seen in his career! Sure he had crossed paths with Hanta virus and H1N1 but this...

"Symptoms are flu like in nature with malaise, fever, and headache onset within hours of infection. Some had symptoms manifest 2-3 days later. Patients deteriorated in rapid progression with red lesions appearing followed up with delirium and bleeding from every orifice."

The photos forwarded from their counterparts in Cairo offered no reprieve. "My god..." he lifted a hand to his mouth in shock.

"Colonel," Major Koch hovered in the door. Her hand had a death grip on the black helmet and face drained of blood.

"Alex, yes please come in," he rose and waved her in. "Shut the door behind you."

The Colonel had personally recruited Major Koch from Walter Reed Army Institute of Research three years back after reading her work on the human immune system and its memory functions related to Marburg and Ebola. Her dedication to the field had left a stark impression on his psyche. Some of the other researchers had mocked her behind her back, calling her insane and foolish. That she was wasting precious resources and taxpayer money in pipe dreams.

"Alex, have you seen these?" Her superior slid the files that he held across the desk towards her. As she eased into the chair, Colonel Schuler noticed how drained she appeared. He frowned, concerned she had not been sleeping. "Alex have you been sleeping?"

"Hm?" She pulled her attention from the photos. They were graphic, depicting the final moments of life half a world away. Flaky bits of crimson caked the side of a young boy's face, cutting through the splotch of disfigured skin.

"You look like shit." His bluntness made her blink then shrug his concern in dismissal.

"Mark and I had an argument last night. He wants to move to DC but I don't want to. Crime rate's through the roof and cost of living is ludicrous. Besides," she dropped the photos unceremoniously on the thick oak surface. "I'm needed here."

"You two have got to work through this." He sighed heavily. Her tone was detached in her explanation.

"We will,. We always do," she threw a half hearted smile which promptly vanished. An implacable expression was cast across her youthful features. "So tell me what's the intel on this."

"The CDC dispatched Dr. Rachel Scott to Giza 24 hours ago. She'll be collecting samples and bringing them back. Of course we'll receive our share of them. This thing," he tapped the top image, "Scares the shit out of me. It's fast, hard, and lethal. If this gets out it'll make Ebola look like the common cold."

"Casey," she leaned to the edge of the leather seat, intertwining her fingers on top her knees. "How many times have we seen a virus flare up in some corner of the world then die out as fast as it showed up? The camp is outside of town away from any large urban center. It'll probably pass through the population then burn out. Remember SARS? It died out and it had been brought over from China to Canada!"

"I hope you're right Alex. The Ebola outbreak in West Africa had you running on coffee and 5 Hour Energy shots for three weeks straight and when you crashed after it died down it wasn't pretty. I had to have Mark keep you home by every means legally possible until that junk was out of your system and you were in your right mind."

"Well I recovered and you have my photo plastered in every convenience store between here, Hagerstown, and Baltimore with the phrase 'DO NOT SELL ENERGY SUPPLEMENTS TO'."

"Well the feral look you sported scared several of the staff." The Colonel tapped a finger on the desk and quickly switched subjects. "A plane will be ready in two hours to take you to Atlanta. I need you to be our eyes and ears down there."

'What," Major Koch snorted. "You don't trust our 'partners'?" Quotation marks came up on either side of her head. "And why dispatch ONE person? CDC doesn't exactly travel light."

"It appears right now with it being a small cluster, the WHO and CDC don't see the justification in calling up the troops."

"Don't you mean prevent mass hysteria like with SARS? It was airborne but it lasted for what not even a year. The last known cases were lab acquired in China." Alex dropped back against the seat, rubbing her temples as a migraine was cracking the front of her mind. "Or is there a dick measuring contest going on behind closed doors?"

"That too," Casey nodded easily. "Be our eyes and ears."

"Who else knows about this?" She shot up, having eyed the coffee pot full with steamy swirls of chocolate and Arabica.

"Right now," Casey graciously accepted the second mug. "Just WHO, CDC, us, and the locals in Egypt. The Egyptian government is on full damage control."

"Of course," she sighed. "They have that large celebration at the pyramids in two weeks. Always about the money. Are they going to say anything about it? Or just write if off as an outbreak of cholera perhaps if any nosy reporters poke around?"

"That I can't answer." Casey took a long drink, watching as his protege wrestled in her seat.

"If I was a betting woman, I would say whitewash." The last drops trickled down her throat. "Can't scare away the tourists."

"Go home, pack, talk to Mark." Casey stretched over the desk, gripping her hand firmly within his. "And for crying out loud get some damn sleep!"

"He's on shift so a phone call or Skype will have to suffice I suppose." Her shoulders drooped as she stood and collected her helmet. "I still don't think we should get our panties in a wad over this. I'll call you when I reach Atlanta."

And with that, Major Alexandra Koch exited Colonel Casey Schuler's office and towards home.

_**Frederick, Maryland...** _

The military duffel sat with it's zipper lined mouth agape as it happily accepted the cotton, polyester, and electronic offerings. Alex was uncertain of how long she would be a guest of the CDC and decided to throw in some civilian attire just to be safe. She had no intentions of socializing with the local night life which saved her extra space. She grabbed the military uniforms and with the precision drilled into her head from being a private, organized and smoothed the camouflage pants and shirt into the clothing bag. The t-shirts could go in the duffel.

She sought her Class A's and put them in the accompanying second clothing bag. Never leave home without; especially when dealing with the CDC. While she would be an intruder in their domain, sometimes, the academically inclined hierarchy required a little snap back to reality. Someone had to be sure they got their panties back on.

With the final tug of the zipper, Alex granted her self a momentary reprieve. She flopped on the bed then collapsed backward and shut her eyes. At least this time deployment would four states south with functional phone and internet. Mark had not responded to her message that she was being shipped out in, she checked her watch, an hour and 45 minutes. Maybe he was tied up. It wasn't that far fetched given the hospital didn't know what a low point or lull was. Then again he could say the same about her career.

Sighing, Alex resumed the monotonous task of gathering what she would need. Her back was turned to the door as she busied herself with mentally finalizing everything.

"Don't tell me: Another deployment to some dark part of the world."

Alex froze with a shirt curled tightly in her fingers.

"I thought you were on shift?" Confusion was written along her face as Alex turned to see Mark hovering in the door. He was clad in the navy blue scrubs she had purchased for him last year which were slightly wrinkled. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest.

"Casey called me. He told me what he could but I figured out the rest."

"You know it's probably just another dead end virus." She shrugged indifferently. "Like SARS it will rage hard and fast but for a short time then extinguish itself and vanish back into the darkest reaches. If they were really worried I wouldn't be going to Atlanta."

"I suppose you're right." Mark scrubbed a hand over his face. Alex flung the shirt in her bag and sat on the edge of the bed. "Look, I know that things aren't great right now." He couldn't look at her and instead leveled his gaze at the bag nested beside her.

"You still want to take the job at MedStar and move to Washington. You know I can't leave here."

"No, you won't leave here that's what it is." Mark spoke with a tone that was sharper than he intended. Alex winced but stayed silent. "This is our chance, Lex."

He crossed the room and came to sit alongside her. Alex just looked ahead, willing herself not to lose it or crack. It was difficult to block the warmth passing between their bodies as they sat in uneasiness.

"I know it's a lot to take in. But, I have been doing some thinking and we don't have to live in DC."

"You HATE commuting."

"Well, when you get back, let's sit down and look at what's around the area."

"The burbs are obscenely overpriced."

Mark dropped his head but lifted it up. "You're not helping."

"I'm being realistic."

"Okay then think of it this way: We find an agreeable place. I mean it's only fair for us to look at this equally. Maybe if you get some down time down there-"

"I'll look," she caved in. "Besides, we need something less...crowded."

His eyes lifted up, shining with elation. "You mean it?"

"Yes, I'll look into the options. I don't expect this to be some drawn out drama like H1N1. I'll meet up with Rachel, trade data, verify the sentinels are established and then be on the next flight here."

She linked her arms around his waist and placed her head on his shoulder.

"I'm just stubborn."

"You're now figuring that out?" He chuckled.

"No," she slid her fingers up along his left side, then dug them in his ribs. Mark yelped and squirmed, pulling away from her increasing hold. "But did I forget to mention I'm ornery?"

He couldn't speak as his tongue twisted and turned in laughter. Alex only kicked it up, recruiting her other hand to supplement the torment.

"P-Please," he pleaded and she abated. He was panting hard while she beamed like a cat that ate the canary.

"Since you asked nicely," she got a final jab in before catching the time on the clock. "But I have to-"

"I'm driving you."

Before Alex could speak Mark shot a hand up. "Casey knows about it and you can keep your bike in the garage."

"I'm shocked you won't use it."

"Oh, I may," he smiled coyly.

"That means you will."

He felt a surge of emotion and suddenly clutched her in his embrace. "We're going to be alright, Lex." She felt his hand cover the side of her face.

"I know we will," she echoed his sentiment.

* * *

_**Mid Atlantic...Present...** _

"Gator!" Alex stormed through the door leading to the deck. The navigator lifted his head from the radar and at the hurried figure closing in on him.

"Major," he pulled the headphones away from his ears. "Where's the fire?"

"Do you have the latest intel?" Her finger stabbed the air in the direction of the window.

"You mean the weather? Yeah, the winds are still holding steady from the south."

"Okay good," she leaned against the table and glanced out the window. "They're getting ready to launch."

"You think this will work? I mean with that bacteria and all." Alex caught the hints of anticipation creeping around the edges of his eyes and lips. She knew he wasn't the only one holding these sentiments. The Captain, XO, Master Chief, and Rachel were equally anxious for this to work.

"I hope so, Gator. I won't lie to anyone here when I say if that wind shifts the Captain or XO hopefully have a Plan B to get us out of this. Because I'm fresh out of options."

Gator noticed how wound up she was standing there, watching the deck below. The muscles tensed beneath the simple cobalt shirt where shoulder and neck merged. The Russians would be watching them, waiting for a miscalculation or slip up on their end. They were probably still pissed about the parting gift before their abrupt departure from Guantanamo Bay.

"What about a Plan B?" Tom was alongside her, watching as Rachel and Green positioned the package.

"If something happens and this doesn't work, I hope you have something up your sleeve because I'm fresh out of smallpox."

He gave her brief glare before lightening up.

"Sorry, I'm on edge." She softened her tone while chewing down on her bottom lie.

"More like wound up tighter than a damned Timex."

"That too," she sighed. He snorted faintly at her agreement. "So you wanna tell me what you may have waiting in the wings if this fails?"

"There is a way," the Captain turned seeing a speck of hope.

"Which is..."

"Take out the radar that guides those missiles."

"Okay and how do you propose doing that?! Does the James have some hidden weapon I don't know about?"

"No," he responded bluntly. "But it does involve a weapon."

"Not the 5 inch!"

"No, Major," he addressed her by rank. "We can have one of the crew use a Barrett sniper rifle to inflict the damage."

"You had me at Barrett. Please do enlighten me." Genuine interest with complimentary smile only he could witness. Chandler passed the binoculars over allowing her to catch a glimpse of the isolated patch of land off the starboard side.

"If yours and Dr. Scott's plan is unsuccessful, the plan is to dispatch someone with a Barrett to that island at night and take out the radar."

"Got anyone qualified to handle it?"

"I was thinking of one of the Marines."

"Or me." She slowly withdrew then turned her head to him.

"You can handle a .50 caliber?" This he had to hear.

"Absolutely. Back in the day I qualified because some little snot nose mama's boy thought he was hot shit and it hit a nerve with me. I kept it current up until all of this. Besides," she passed the binoculars back, "After what happened with you and Tex, I want this chance. That is if you'll let me have it."

Chandler digested this; letting his mind outline their options. Having Alex away from the protection of the ship didn't settle right. The last time the uneasiness crossed his mind, she was being airlifted in the MV-22, incoherent and broken. Alex sighed and shook her head. She didn't need to be told what he was pondering. The distant stare spoke for him.

"You're not sure you want me off the James if we have to go that route. You're scared another Nicaragua will spring up." She spoke in a hushed tone, with only the Master Chief close enough to hear anything exchanged.

"It had crossed my mind."

"Well uncross it. Gator said it was uninhabited."

"And we didn't think anyone would be living on the river in the preserve either and look where that got us."

"I'm better now," she gritted her teeth, reigning her climbing resentment. "You and I both want the shot; only you won't admit it."

"Major, a word," Chandler's voice halted further words. The frost along his tongue froze her in place. "Master Chief if you'll excuse us."

"Aye aye Sir," Master Chief nodded then resumed his observations on the deck below. XO Slattery was positioned with Dr. Scott along with Lieutenant Green. He couldn't see it but the simple silver canister was carefully being placed.

* * *

Alex kept willing herself to breathe the entire journey from the bridge to the Captain's cabin. He was probably going to tear her a new one for the little fit upstairs. But she wanted to state her case; to plead why she should be the one going if necessary.

He swung the door open, creating an escape for the accumulating air that had iced over since he left. Chandler made a mental note to have the temperature adjusted as he and Alex stepped inside.

"Okay I realized I crossed a line up there." Her hands lifted to a surrender pose and posture relaxed.

"I didn't want to have this discussion in front of the officers." He reclined with back face the wall but retained a rigid stance.

"I want to go. If I have to demonstrate my competency with the Barrett I will."

"I know why you're doing this Alex." He stated the obvious. "And showing your marksmanship skills won't be necessary."

"Damn right you know why," hands dropped to hips. "Don't stand there, look me straight in the eye, and tell me you don't want the same thing. I know you were wanting a crack at El Toro. Bressler told me in the Ward Room. You wanted to rip that son of a bitch apart when you saw what he did."

Chandler shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to cease the images repeating with sickening clarity. He was sickened; no, disgusted to put it lightly. Even now, with the full covering of the stark black shirt, a couple of stray slivers breached the veil; taunting him and the others who were present that night.

"I don't know if it's a good idea."

"It doesn't matter who goes, it's the same risk regardless. How is Ruskov going to know anyone's off the James?" Alex rushed in, grabbing his hands tight. Tom couldn't but help to reciprocate, closing his larger warmer ones around hers. "I can set it up, take the shot, and break it down then head back. I'm a strong swimmer. Look, you can assign someone to go with me, even Mike if that's what it took." It dawned on her. "You don't want to see me get hurt again."

She subconsciously bit on the inside of her lower lip, chewing it to distract her even if briefly. It wasn't an easy decision as he continued to stand there, contemplating. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed the matter.

"If, and I mean IF, your plan doesn't work, I'll be going with you. I know the layout of a Kirov and where to take the best shot."

"I understand," Alex's head dropped, suddenly feeling small.

"At the first moment of something afoul, back to the James with or without taking it out."

Alex mustered a short nod of agreement.

"I understand," the two words rolled off her tongue. "We should check on Rachel and Mike."

"Agreed," he released her hands and let her start for the door but captured her wrist in his hold. Alex froze and spun around, confused by this.

"What's wrong?" Alex twisted the rest of her body back around. When the last syllable fell quiet he was gathering her in his arms, pressing her face to his chest. He felt her smaller ones encircling him in kind.

"You're right: I'm afraid of you getting hurt again. I wasn't there to stop El Toro."

"Well this time, you'll be there right alongside me; protecting me."

"Damn right," he muttered.

"You couldn't prevent what happened to me. They outgunned you. Would've been hard to come back if you, Mike, Master Chief, or Burk were hurt or worse."

"You have no idea..." His hold deepened.

"Don't let it consume you Tom. With me being there, those girls were spared further suffering. I would do it again."

"I know," the weight of his hand pushed tenderly against the back of her head. "We need to get back."

"Yep," Alex released him and went for the door, sighing tiredly. "No rest for the weary."

* * *

"Are we ready XO Slattery?" Rachel hollered over her shoulder. The breeze continued its gentle swells, their unseen ally in this clandestine assault. Mike nodded as Green kept watch on the Kirov on the upper deck. So far, no Zodiacs or other signs of activity surrounded the Russian vessel. He suspected they were watching them as they watched the larger ship. No matter, they couldn't spot the doctor or XO as they were concealed by the side of the helo bay. So long as the sea blessed them, the James would possess the advantage. According to the Major and Dr. Scott, E. coli would cause extreme discomfort including abdominal cramps, diarrhea, vomiting, nausea, and fever. Good! Those assholes deserved every bit of misery inflicted.

"Ready Doctor," Mike gave the signal and donned his mask. Rachel followed suit while Green shifted away and out of the line of fire. Mike silently prayed this worked. It wasn't he didn't have faith in Rachel but it was Nature he remained cautious of. He had been on the open ocean long enough to bear witness to her gentle caresses and violent rages. One moment a steady wind could provide good passage but within minutes shift and create chaos for the mortals caught in her ire.

The cylinder was attached to a narrow tube, borrowed from Engineering. Rachel assured Chief Engineer Garnett it would be returned washed, rinsed, and sanitized three times over then tested before landing back in her hands. Lieutenant Chung devised the propulsion components that would expel the contents out and away. CO2 from the pop dispensing system in the Crew Lounge. Some crew openly groaned and expressed their mourning over the loss of carbonated goodness. Well, they were running low on syrup flavors which softened the blow; slightly.

Rachel gripped the faucet handle and steadily twisted it left. She quietly congratulated herself on maintaining steady hands with each sharp turn. The hose twitched and danced in her hold but she held steadfast. It had to be constant flow.

"Here goes nothing," she breathed through her mask.

"Delivery en route," Mike conveyed across the radio.

* * *

"Sir," Lieutenant Granderson spoke up. "Dr. Scott has initiated dispensing." Tom and Alex watched with intent with the former nodding to the right. From the corner of his left eye, he caught the contraction and flexing of Alex's jaw. Her chest would pause for several moments before her brain reminded her lungs to expand then compress.

Alex continued her vigilance, noticing the subtle shift in sunlight. Her eyes drifted from Rachel to the vast horizon before them.

"Um Gator," she hollered for the Navigator. Gator's head snapped up at the alarming tone.

"Major what's wrong?"

"I'm not a meteorologist but that looks an awful lot like a storm attempting to develop." She pointed at the window. Her face darkened at the looming ramifications.

"Shit," Gator spat out in a rare display of vulgarity.

"Oh no no no no," Alex shook her head. "No, no no... . ."

* * *

As if Nature was compounding their distress, a streak of lightning reached across the darkening horizon.

"Damn it!" Mike cursed and looked skyward. The wind shifted, going north and away from the Kirov. Fat drops splattered around them, striking the deck and personnel with indifference. He hurried to Rachel who was killing the switch to the CO2. Her pensive shoulders and dejected expression only compiled their defeat. "Rachel, we need to head in."

* * *

The random incursion of rain morphed into a torrent. The Kirov was shunned from their sight by the thick sweeping gray curtain.

Thunder exploded overhead, deafening any who were unfortunate to be outside. Alex squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears; remembering how she would sprint for the blankets and hide until her mom or dad would come in, draw the blankets back, collect her shaking crying body up, and reassure her the storm couldn't get her.

"Now I remember why I went into the Army!"

Tom watched the wiper blades frantically swish across the glass. It was in vain as the rain increased, reducing any visibility to under five feet. "Gator, how much longer with this storm?"

Gator was on it, examining the screen with delicate precision. "Looks like it's drifting south southeast approximately 25-30 mph."

"Gotta love the random storm," Alex muttered to herself. She glanced over shoulder to see Mike and Rachel approaching. Both were thoroughly drenched with hair matted to scalps. Mike offered a sympathetic look to Alex.

* * *

"We go to Plan B."

"Wait what?!" Mike felt his arms and legs regaining feeling. For being in the sub tropical region of the world, the rain was on par with fall in Chicago. He placed the half full mug on the table, staring at Alex and Tom.

"Alex is qualified with the Barrett. I'm escorting her out and back."

"Is this really a good idea? Not to insult Alex's skills."

"None taken," she calmly replied with mouth accepting coffee. "I know, Tom was apprehensive about it too."

"Why not one of the Marines? Bressler? Sterling? Eckert?" He waited for an answer.

"I want payback Mike," Alex admitted. "I want to be the one to deliver the shot."

"This is because of-"

"It is," she nodded. "Ruskov needs to know that he CANNOT fuck with us."

"You mean 'fuck' with those you care about." Alex and Tom traded looks. "I figured out something was up a while back when I caught Alex slipping away from your cabin. Well, it was before that. After returning from Nicaragua my suspicions were aroused. I've seen the looks you two trade when you think no one is watching."

Mike knew because he had been on the receiving and giving side of those very glances. When times were brighter with Christina, before the separation and pending divorce proceedings, such expressions of tenderness and intimacy were common under their roof. Initially it had invoked a stab of envy seeing how Tom and Alex drew close; with Nicaragua being the tipping point. But soon, he too began to share in the long missed reflections of emotion. He had not expected it with Rachel but it happened and she really wasn't so bad after all.

"Oh boy," Alex sunk into the nearest seat. Her hands caught her forehead. "We're keeping this low key Mike. You understand...right? Well, there was that reunion on the Kirov and the Russians got a little show. But it served a purpose."

"Mike, look," Tom leaned on the table with hands shoulders' width apart.

"You don't have to explain yourself Tom. Probably the most action those bastards got anyways." He refilled her mug. She laughed lightly at the subtle gesture. "What's so funny?"

"That," she gestured at the pot in his hand. "When we met we were always at odds so to speak. In the beginning you would've wanted to throw that pot at me. Delivering low blows to inflict maximum damage. We were ready to kill one another but now..." she paused. "But now you're like my brother. The big brother who won't let anyone mess with me because that's your job."

"And as your 'brother' I'm not exactly excited about you and Tom gallivanting to that speck of land and opening fire on a Kirov."

"We're not opening fire; we're simply handicapping it. Again." She added an evil smile.

"I'm just concerned that the CO and one of our scientists will be off the James and vulnerable."

"And you're right to be concerned," Tom gently agreed.

"I don't feel right." Mike shook his head. "About letting you two do this."

"If something runs afoul, the mission is aborted; with or without completion. Once the rain ceases and it goes dark, we leave." Tom straightened his posture, solidifying his stare. "We'll maintain communications with the James. We have the two ways."

"If ANYTHING feels like it's going south, I will deploy an extraction team. You two swimming back will be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Agreed," Tom nodded once more.

"We'll be back Mike," Alex felt a surge of boldness. "We'll be alright."

_We'll be alright..._

Suddenly, she heard Mark's voice echo her words.

_We're going to be alright Lex..._

"Alex, Alex," Tom waved his hand inches from her face. She blinked twice then tilted her head to find concern biting the outer parts of his eyes.

"Sorry," she smiled meekly. "I zoned out. I should rest before tonight. I'll talk to Bressler about the Barrett."

Leaving the cup partially finished, Alex pushed away then up and exited in silence.

"You think she's up to it?" Mike waited until she was gone. "Not that I respect your decision."

"She needs a few hours rest that's all. But if I need to I'll use Bressler."

Mike grunted but said nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't say something sooner." Tom claimed the last of the coffee.

"After seeing how Alex pulled you back after what happened and of course when she decided to experiment on herself and your 'vigil'," he did quotation marks with his fingers. "It wasn't hard to see. Who am I to question that?"

"Because knowing you you're concerns would rest with the decisions I make. How they would impact the ship and crew."

"Yes I had my reservations." Mike wasn't going to lie about it. "Now, after all that's happened, I was wrong in my initial impressions."

"You mean after you and Alex had it out."

"That too," Mike gently chuckled. "At least she had the good stuff." He took a another gulp. "So, you really do care about her?"

Tom looked up to his XO, a smile graced his lips as he spoke. "I do Mike. But it 's more than that."

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pop Quiz: Where is the character of Casey Schuler originally from? Hint: He's from a movie.


	8. Deceit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashback episode!!!!!

_**Guantanamo Bay...One year earlier...** _

"What the..."

The Major stared; simply gawked at the screen. Was this right!?

"I ran this three times!" Her fingers clicked a few keys, recalling the previous screen. "SHIT!" It had to be contamination. The numbers were reading at least 100 times above the maximum limit! "Fuck," she collapsed in the chair, feeling it swerve back then forth lazily. How many hours had she been awake now? Sleep had been nagging her but this was too important NOT to postpone. The quicker she and Rachel achieved their goal, the faster they were back to the States!

Jesus that XO was such a PRICK! He was practically spitting out she was a Russian mole! The Captain should keep him on a leash! Complete with pinch collar! No, a shock collar would be more appropriate for him!

"Rachel," she sat up, hollering at her colleague while tapping her watch. "Let's get some food and coffee."

Rachel nodded and resumed her work. The Major huffed and crossed her arms. She was going to have to go back to square one. Clearly she fucked up somewhere in the process.

Or had she?

Realization slowly overcame her. What if the numbers were right? Science was a process after all. It took multiple theories, trials, and errors before the answer was found. Max Theiler had done it with the yellow fever virus. Of course he had found 99 ways that a vaccine wouldn't work but it didn't deter him. Her heart sprinted against her ribs as excitement saturated her veins and thoughts. She would have to check against the controls again but...

"Alex," Rachel's voice snapped her back from the fog her mind had wandered into.

"Sorry," the Major rubbed her eyes. "I was waiting on the results but still not ready yet."

"Well since you pulled me away from my work let's get moving." She was hovering over, clearly annoyed with the interruption in her labors. Perhaps it was more anxiety than annoyance.

"You know, you shouldn't be afraid to eat with the other officers," the Major casually stretched and cracked her neck. "They don't bite."

"Well if you didn't notice I'm not particularly well liked on this ship."

"Whatever," the Major rolled her eyes. "You mean Slattery doesn't like you. Well he isn't too fond of me either but I'm not going to let him keep me from eating. Let him pout! Let him sulk like a four year old. He's not," she emphasized the second word. "I repeat, not the commanding officer of this vessel. That would be Captain Chandler last time I checked. And right now, we won't be going anywhere. Besides, the virus and all of our work won't grow legs and waltz away. We've been busting our asses since I got here."

Before she could utter a response, the door tore open with Chandler storming through. Slattery was hot on his CO's heels. Quincy brought up the rear; his head hanging down masking the mix of anger and grief.

"Who else was working on the vaccine?" Chandler's tone was hurried. Rachel and Alex felt the burden of his stare drilling down on them both.

"Who wasn't working on a vaccine Captain? Every single nation that had anyone knowledgeable who wasn't dead was in the same ship as us." The Major motioned with a finger to Rachel, herself, and Quincy.

"What if someone had a sample of the primordial strain? Could they do it?" He wasn't deterred, proceeding with question on top of dizzying question.

"If those same people had the right equipment and could run them then yes. But they would be months behind. But that's a best guess and based on last contact." Rachel leaned her hip against the desk, feeling XO Slattery's disbelieving gaze.

"And as far as we know, Rachel and I could be the last two competent ones on the planet." The Major tilted further back in her seat.

"That would be a travesty," Slattery muttered under his breath. The Major and Rachel ignored his remark.

"Dr. Scott, I need a word alone with Major Koch." The Major froze in her seat. Oh boy! Here we go!

"Of course," she motioned for Quincy to follow her lead. Chandler waited until the click of the door announced the civilians' departures. The Major rose and straightened her posture. Hands nested within the other against the small of her back. Her pulse climbed in tempo with her heart as she anticipated whatever the Captain had to say.

"Major, earlier there was an incident between you and XO Slattery which was witnessed by some of the officers."

Uneasiness deepened between all three, threatening brinksmanship with each passing second.

"You're dragging  _ **that**_ up?! I was forced to defend myself against accusations launched at me by your XO. I'm sorry if he can't be in the presence of a woman who can handle her own. It's the 21st century; we've gone beyond the kitchen in case he didn't notice."

"You're out of line Major," Chandler stepped closer. Steel blue radiating, no demanding subordination from the younger officer. "XO Slattery has proven himself in the eyes of his CO and the crew of the Nathan James. I will not have anyone speak lesser of him in that respect."

"But-" He sharply silenced her with a hand. Her lips pursed and nostrils flared. Slattery reveled inwardly; elated she was getting kicked off that ivory tower of hers.

"I don't question your valor in the field nor will I Major. For your dedication and willingness to fight this we will be grateful. But, I will not tolerate this behavior. I have already spoken to XO Slattery regarding his actions in the matter." He maintained an even tone, but for how long remained to be seen.

"Alone! I didn't get to be in on that little conversation. But he's," she pointed a shaky finger. "Standing right there, watching me get reprimanded? Oh that's really fair Captain. I get it: We're not liked by everyone. But there is NO way in Hell I'm going to be treated like shit by another officer."

"Then we are at an understanding Major," Chandler nodded. The Major couldn't believe this! Whenever Casey would have to reprimand her at least he had the common courtesy to do it alone with the office door closed. Here? Here she was subject to a level of humiliation. Slattery was allotted the pleasure of one on one where she was denied. His very presence was akin to dumping a gallon of lemon juice into a gaping wound!

"Of course," she felt the mounting tensions subside. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab some coffee."

"Dismissed," Chandler allowed her to pass.

"Laugh it up asshole," she muttered once she reached the door as to stay undetected by the men. Chandler noticed the stiff demeanor as the Major retreated. Her shoulders were pensive; even with the slightly baggy shirt hanging from her shoulders.

"I think that went rather well," he looked to Mike who kept any inkling of vindication absent.

* * *

The Major kept moving, steering clear of the Ward Room. Right now, the last place she wanted to be was the viper's nest. So, she continued on, making her way along the corridor until she spotted the entrance to the crew mess. Her stomach was growling but hunger she was uncertain of. Emotions fucked with her appetite; one bout she could be eating the entire fridge or ordering and consuming a large meat lover's from Eugene's or in another view food as the enemy; knotting her stomach to the point of vomiting if one morsel crossed her lips.

Right now, she was lodged somewhere in between the pair. Coffee, however, would be permissible.

A few of the enlisted men who were gathered in a far right corner, stopped their conversation that ranged from sports to women and peered at the new arrival with mouths agape. The Major paused and raised an eyebrow, suddenly finding herself reliving part of high school. The table of freshman who had never touched or kissed a girl but kindled the hope to taste the sweet lips or breast of a cheerleader or popular girl.

"That's her?" Cosetti whispered to Miller. "That's the Army officer you guys found? You didn't tell me she was a fox." He grinned wickedly from ear to ear.

Miller rolled his eyes and took a bite of mashed potatoes.

"Cosetti, you couldn't handle that. She broke the neck of an Al Qaeda guy and saved the Captain."

"You didn't tell me that!" The dark chocolate eyes lit up and widened at this. "She snapped someone's neck? Nice..." He grinned wider to himself which invoked another eye roll from his companion.

"You know the rules Cosetti: Officers and enlisted don't fraternize; even if they are different branches and besides," Miller stole a quick glimpse at the Major who was sitting alone off to the right. She was cradling a mug of coffee but not exactly taking in the caffeinated brew. Her eyes were heavy; circled by rich violet crescents indicating the missed blessing of slumber. "She doesn't exactly look like she's in a socializing mood."

"Yeah well," Cosetti shrugged. "Doesn't mean I can't say hi or talk to her. Maybe she can use a shoulder to lean on." His voice was absent of any innuendo.

"If I were you, I would probably steer clear." Miller scooped the last of the reconstituted potatoes up and bused his tray.

"What? You got a thing for her?"

"No," Miller shook his head upon returning. "Because if you saw what she did in the warehouse, you may think twice about your decision."

Cosetti felt his friend's hand slap his shoulder twice as if he was about make good on a death wish. He waited, gathering his composure before possessing the will to push up and away from the table.

The Major overheard the conversation between the two, finding it humorous in light of the stellar day she was having. She had seen Cosetti once before, placing him somewhere in his early to mid 20s as a stretch. Honestly, he didn't look like he was past 16 with the boyish good looks and matching charm. She envied him as he had not been witness to the horrors of Ramses. Ignorance truly was bliss for many of these men and women.

"Uh hi," she peered up from her cup, eyes narrowing not from coldness but curiosity. Cosetti suddenly felt his throat go dry.

"Sit." He dropped into the closest chair opposite of hers. He looked around, down, left, then right, wondering if Miller was right in his initial position. His heart hammered with such force he feared it would rupture his chest while his palms grew slick and hot. "So...you think I'm a fox?"

The Major was looking directly at him; no wait, through him. The penetrative stare seemed to cut through any defense he held. Cosetti flinched like she had just stretched across the table and smacked him on the face.

"Uh...uh..." his tongue turned to stone.

"Don't worry as I won't tell anyone. Your secret's safe with me; and Miller of course." He felt his chest aching for he had been holding his breath. Merriment lined her words, easing his distress. "I find it kind of sweet. Probably the first genuine sentiment anyone has said to me since I came aboard."

"You're exaggerating Ma'am." She sighed in her drink causing Cosetti to reel. Shit!

The Major took a drink before she spoke. "Please, don't call me Ma'am. It makes me feel old. Call me Major."

"Major," Cosetti cracked a smile. "You look like you're having a bad day. I mean officers don't dine up here."

The Major slumped in the hard plastic, slowly rubbing her forehead. The pangs of a migraine were collecting in the center of her mind.

"I'm not exactly the ideal officer." Cosetti frowned.

"What does that mean Major? Forgive me if I'm wrong but when a lower ranking officer risks her own life for a higher officer in the line of fire, I wouldn't say you weren't ideal. Honestly, that's pretty damn ballsy if you don't mind my saying."

The Major chuckled and stood to refill her mug. "I have a tendency to be outspoken in the most inopportune of times in the view of some. My conduct has been considered unbecoming an Army officer. When I was in a meeting with some high ranking government officials, the Secretary of State got a glimpse of that. You want some?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "So, uh, Major, what is it that you do?" He waited.

"I'm an immunologist and microbiologist. My job is to find out why our immune systems can't beat this." She set the mug down as a waitress would for her customer. "See, our bodies have the ability to fight off viruses and bacteria but this Ramses strain, is something entirely new."

"What do you mean 'new'?"

"Most of the viruses and bacteria that are around our bodies have adapted or evolved to recognize those same organisms and create antibodies that capture and destroy them before they can multiply in our bodies, making us sick. Vaccines work the same way. They cause our immune systems to create a response to that virus or bacteria which when those same germs would invade again the body was ready. Memory response. Perhaps a good example is riding a bike; once you learn how to do it you don't forget."

She knew it was a great deal for the young man to digest. The Major studied his body language and facial features for signs of overwhelming him.

"And Doctor Scott is working on a vaccine."

"Correct. Once I can figure out how our immune systems can beat it we can make that vaccine."

"But how long will that take? I mean before we left there wasn't a vaccine for HIV yet."

"And that is the trouble with viruses: They can mutate and outsmart the immune system. It's part of Nature you see which is also a problem for us." She sadly smiled.

"Sorry I asked," he rubbed the back of his neck.

"No," she shook her head. "Don't be sorry. Before you were born, smallpox was a terrible disease. For centuries it was a scourge. No cure or treatment existed and still doesn't."

"I know what smallpox was," Cosetti nodded. "American History in high school."

"Then you know that eventually a viable vaccine was devised leading the eradication of the virus."

A tiny smile poked the corners of his downward lips.

"You think a vaccine will be made?"

This caused the Major to deposit her mug back on the table. She took a moment, outlining her words as to not upset, panic, or on the opposite end instill false securities with her answer.

"Vaccines are not a precise science. They are trial and error; refining and revising. I don't want to give a overinflated impression of success or failure rather I want to approach this in a realistic and honest manner."

"I understand."

"Do you Cosetti?" She inquired warily. During the Pandemic it was misinformation and falsified reports the media eagerly fed the masses which led to much of the anarchy in many cities. Despite the best efforts of her colleagues stateside and across the pond, people consumed the fear mongering like sharks on chum.

"Does it mean we can go home? After the vaccine is found?" He reminded her of a child with his meek voice and head tilted downward.

"That's not my call. But I would imagine once we reach that point it would be the next step. We'll need a facility that can mass produce it. Can't do it here on the James."

"Would that be safe?" His eyes went wide until the sweet brown vanished from his eyes.

"With the proper equipment and PPE the chances of contracting the virus are slim. But right now, you shouldn't worry yourself with what could or could not happen. It'll stress you out and only cause you to have doubts. That's dangerous."

"Your honesty and serenity about this is not causing me to freak out Major. I'll admit it's scary." He peered down, seeing his cup was empty. Cosetti had been drinking without realizing it. Guess that's what happens when one was entranced in a rather colorful discussion with a beautiful woman. Jesus! It sounded like the beginning of a Dear Penthouse letter! Too bad it wasn't going to end like the ones he had read.

"And it's alright to be afraid. But remember, your Captain will do everything in his power to keep everyone on board safe."

She added a warm smile, finding it was reassuring for Cosetti.

"I need to head back," he pushed the mug away and stood from the chair. His ass had fallen asleep from sitting too long.

"Go," the Major waved her fingers in a sweeping gesture. "No need for Master Chief to come down on you."

"Thank you, Major."

She followed him as he scurried out and back to his station. God she hoped he didn't freak out later about this. But lying would've made it worse. Lies only led to bigger deeper ones being piled on like bullshit. That wasn't right by them. If they had questions, the Major was going to answer them to the best of her ability.

Her appetite had not returned so the Major decided to retreat to the lab. She had results to interpret.

* * *

Qunicy waited until Rachel had left. With Major Koch taking off, and rather flustered from the flush tinge on her face and neck and the subsequent vulgarities that were typically American which spewed past her mouth. He didn't have a large span of time which prompted him into action. He prepared the transport case, positioning it to receive its precious cargo. The primordial samples, Italian samples, and Egyptian samples were part of the package. He cursed Ruskov for not taking him in place of Major Koch and Rachel but what other choice did he now possess? He shuddered; wishing to block out what they would be forced to endure at the hands of the former Vice Admiral. Once they fulfilled the ends to his means he would probably have had them executed or subjected to some cruel fate making them yearn for the kiss of death. It was how Ruskov operated.

The samples had little under 3 hours before they became compromised.

He expected Rachel and Major Koch back within the hour; if not sooner.

"I'm sorry for what I'm about to do but I have to."

* * *

The Major dragged her feet.

She was anxious to return to the lab but now wondered if perhaps her chat with Cosetti wasn't the beginning of anything ominous. But she had not divulged anything outside of what she would've used for any person off the street. Vaccines took time; sometimes years before it was ready for the public. But a part of her, that part of her that wanted to help just couldn't shut up. She wasn't the type to deceive people. Even when she was on active duty not one shard of her body was dishonest.

"Major," Master Chief was closing the distance between them.

"Master Chief," she stopped allowing him to catch up. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no problem." He shook his head. "I uh overheard some of the conversation between you and Cosetti in the mess."

"Oh," she shrugged. "He had some questions and I was up front with him. There is no need to be secretive. Secrets destroy."

"Well, I only hope that your words don't plant any seeds."

"Honestly Master Chief, it's the same schlemiel I would give to a person off the street. Very generic but enough for a person to comprehend. The last thing we need is a spark of fear to fan the flames of panic and supposition. If they have any concerns send them my way. I don't think Captain Chandler would have any misgivings about me calming simple apprehensions. It's best to hear it straight from the scientists' mouths."

"I suppose you have a point Major."

"Look, I can see you have concerns which are well rooted. We don't know what is going on outside of the James. No one can start to fathom the fates of their families and loved ones let alone get any form of closure. At least let me provide some degree of comfort, easement, or however you wish to label it."

Master Chief studied her for a moment. Again, she was fatigued. Her hair was slipping from the bun that was fashioned at the base of her head.

"If you need to tell the Captain about this go ahead." She was tired. Drained of energy from the confrontation with the Captain and Slattery. At that particular instant, the Major could've cared less what the Master Chief did.

"I do not foresee the need to explain this to the Captain. Perhaps it will ease the mind of Cosetti. I know some of the crew have been on edge since we veered away from Florida. The Captain did gather the crew and explain what happened up to the time you arrived here on the James. Maybe hearing some reassurances from someone outside the crew would be beneficial."

"Yeah, Rachel filled me in about that. Look, I just want to do the right thing by the crew. I know a lot of them are anxious but knowledge is power. The more we can take the mystery and uncertainty away, the more receptive they will be when something else happens."

Master Chief took another step closer. "If there is anything I can do to help."

"Well, again, if you need to forward questions to me or if you want me to come up here and talk to crew members I will."

A smile cracked his lips. It disarmed the Major, sending a signal for her body to loosen up a bit.

"I can do that."

"Thank Master Chief."

"Major, I know you are struggling."

The Major sighed and shook her head. SHIT! Had she been that transparent?

"Struggling is trying to grab the life preserver and having it brush your fingers. For me, it's the life preserver being used to keep me under."

Before Master Chief could utter another word, the Major was turning and walking away.

* * *

"Hey Rachel, how are those-" the Major froze. Her heart halted as she stood partially in the doorway. "Quincy what in the HELL are you doing!?"

Quincy pointed the Baretta at both women. Rachel had her hands halfway up, petrified at her colleague training a loaded weapon on her. Fear consumed her entire posture; the light tremors racking her body. The Major was experiencing something entirely different. Rage.

"You two come with me NOW!" The Major noticed his hand was shaky as it shifted the firearm between them.

"You're the mole?!" The Major snarled and started for the Brit but Quincy cocked the hammer, demonstrating his intent. "You son of a bitch! Do you realize what you've done?! TWO good men were killed out there because of YOU!"

"Oh shut it!" He honed the gun to her heart. "Now, come with me or I WILL shoot you Major. And I really don't want to do it but I will."

"Quincy don't!" Rachel pleaded. "Please don't." She was astonished her voice had returned.

"Ruskov has my family Rachel. And all because I listened to you and came along."

"Oh my heart's bleeding for you. Really it is," the Major now held her hands up but remained tense. Her options were limited. If Quincy was good on his aim she would be dead before her body smacked the floor. But if she attempted to disarm him, he could fire and hit Rachel.

"Shut up and move!" The muzzle of the Baretta bit into her lower back. The Major snarled but pushed her feet ahead. Rachel was in front of her.

"If we lose those samples you're gonna have more than just a bad day."

Quincy had had enough of her mouth. The attitude and snark spewing from her vile mouth had sent him over. The butt crashed into the center of her skull, hurling the Major towards the shiny tiles below. She couldn't cry out or groan as the abruptness of the blow had stunned every function and nerve in her head. Rachel spun on her heels, gasping in disgust at his actions.

"Alex," she swooped down, grabbing the Major's right arm. "Shit, you're bleeding." Her fingers dabbed slick crimson. "Damn it Quincy!"

The Major felt her world swirling about her, blurring everything within eyesight. The impact of steel to skull had blinded her momentarily, flooding her vision with a bright shower of white. Her body had landed with the left shoulder slamming the side then floor with the rest of her body joining in short fashion. Her hearing was blocked, thunder saturating the canals. She just lay there like an invalid. The pain blasting like spires out of her skull.

"Get up!"

"She's hurt! Can't you see that!?" Rachel fired back, feeling the rush of adrenaline and anger fueling her body as she steadied the Major to her feet. "Alex are you alright?"

"Uhhhhh," she clamped a hand to the side of her head where the pain was greatest. But somehow her body and brain found a connection, igniting the nerves in her legs.

"Don't worry, they won't let her die. They need her."

Rachel let the Major lean into her as they reached the outside. The spray of ocean air danced across their skin, tinging lips and eyes with a mixture of mist and chill. Quincy kept the pair moving until they were along the rail. Then, he paused and gestured with the gun.

"Jump," he coldly instructed. Rachel peered over, incredulous at his instigation.

"You're mad," she spat.

"Understatement," the Major groaned. "More like nuts."

"If you don't jump," he pressed the muzzle to the center left of the Major's chest. "I will shoot her."

"Do it," the Major egged him. "You talk big and bad so why not back it up hmm? Go on; pull the trigger."

Quincy had a split second decision to make. Live up to his promise or...

_"HEY! What's going on down there?"_

One of the guards had overheard the scuffle. Quincy snapped around and opened fire. Rachel clamped her hand around the Major's wrist and pulled her back inside the ship.

"Head to the Crew Mess."

Rachel heard the partially slurred command and hurried her pace. The Major allowed herself to be guided and focused on keeping her feet moving. The adrenaline was kicking in, quelling any and all pain that was earlier in firm control. Her muscles greedily consumed the sweet nectar, accelerating harder and faster.

Quincy was gaining on them, rushing down the corridor. He should've pulled the trigger and did the world a damn favor. He saw the backside of the Major as she and Rachel dashed deeper into the ship. He was a bit amazed that no personnel had appeared.

Rachel saw the enlisted man pop up from around the corner and extended her free arm out, shoving the bewildered man aside as she and the Major rushed by. Quincy grunted and used his shoulder to plow the same man aside, not caring if he was pressed into the pipes and valves along the wall. His drive was narrowed down to two women.

Rachel caught the doorway to the mess and turned sharp left into the flurry of men and women. The Major felt her boots gliding along the floor, nearly severing the contact between them.

"He's got a gun! Help us!"

Rachel let go of the Major allowing them to split up. Quincy halted with gun raised causing some to run out while others froze where they stood. His nostrils flared like a bull's. The death stare he cast upon them made everyone in the room shudder. The Major was gripping the end of a table, panting out of control. Her chest was aching hard, struggling to catch oxygen. Sweat beaded along her forehead only accentuating her strife. Rachel was shaking hard but she coached herself to stay calm.

"Rachel, you and the Major have to come with me." His voice had lowered and softened. The guards had shown up, ready to use their weapons.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON!" The order went unheeded.

"No way," the Major lifted her head and shook it. A few random splats of blood dotted her hands. Quincy's upper lip quivered as he went to the container and flipped it open. "Oh shit."

"I'll do it," he clutched a vial of the virus in his hand. He positioned his thumb at the edge of the lid. "There is enough virus in here to kill everyone on this ship. Put your weapons down and BACK AWAY!"

"Quincy, Quincy this isn't like you. You aren't like this." Rachel continued reaching out, hoping her comrade would listen.

"I'm sorry." He felt the iron resolve starting to buckle. "But I can't let you go. It's you two they want."

"You don't want to do this. This isn't how we do things. We solve problems." Master Chief was leaning with arm outright. He could see the pain the Major was in despite her best efforts to mask it.

"Put your weapon down." The Captain proceeded with caution. He saw Rachel edging very slowly towards Quincy with the Major now on the move behind him. Now his will had deteriorated, wilting like a tree in the summer heat. The Major cast a short glance then nod as she was less than three feet away. Chandler kept his eyes to Quincy but kept her in his peripheral vision.

"Quincy give it to me," Rachel quietly pleaded. Her hand reached out, a calculated risk. His defenses continued to shatter, his conscious screaming to do the right thing.

_Give it to her! You do this and all hope for getting Kelly and your daughter back are GONE._

That part of him, the part that still held decency, took over, passing the vial to Rachel's patient hand. Her warm slender fingers enclosed around the vial, retracting it from his lax grip.

As Rachel retreated, the Major attacked.

The Captain watched as she tackled him with the ferocity of a Patriots linebacker. A few winced at the impact of his face to the table; some wondering if she had broken his jaw as it was the first and hardest blow. The crack of bone and skin against Formica echoed off the walls and ceiling. Quincy didn't see it coming. It wasn't until the shockingly strong arms were tightening around his waist and the air around him was rushing up and away followed by the violent slam of his body to the table. He didn't have time to scream as the air was purged from his lungs and gushing through his mouth.

"Step back!" The Major lifted up allowing for one of the guards to secure him with cuffs. The Captain looked up, seeing her drop into the closest seat. The Major's shoulders slumped forward as though her actions had deprived her of energy. Her face darkened and furrowed as her hand reached behind her.

"Shit," she cursed and closed her eyes.

"Major," he hurried towards her as Quincy was being hauled away in cuffs. "What happened?" He spied the fingertips baked in deep crimson.

"Just a flesh wound," but her grunt of discomfort betrayed her.

"Bullshit," he was tugging her arm and bringing her upright. "You need to be seen by Doc Rios. Now."


	9. Rockets Red Glare

_**Mid Atlantic...Present Day...** _

"The sun's setting," Master Chief approached Alex as she stood on the deck. It was warmer where they sat, still in the line shot of the Vyerni. Goddamn Russians didn't know when to quit. It was a quality both to be admired and reviled.

"Yep," she sighed, refusing to let the Russian vessel slip for her eyeline. "Bressler's getting the .50 caliber ready."

"You didn't tell me you were handy with a sniper's rifle." Hints of amusement crossed his tone. While a splinter of surprise stabbed his mind, it wasn't a total shock.

The narrow smile played along her lips like a ghost; disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

"There was a little prick that had to be put in his place. I'm certain you crossed paths with a few in your time."

"Indeed I have." His way of saying Amen. "Far more than I can recall Major."

She gently chuckled at his testament, finding it hard to imagine such a man as Master Chief getting vulgar or worked up over a lesser ranked service member. But his reserved persona could easily mask similar ideologies.

"I should go see if he has it ready. Wanted to make sure it was in immaculate condition. Who am I to argue with a Marine?"

"They have been a godsend Major. I told you, God has a plan for all of us. They were meant to survive and be there in Nicaragua. Just as you had survived your trials and stand here now."

"Yeah, so you say." She glanced at the railing, absently running a finger over the smooth metallic luster. Her eyes clouded over as she stared blankly over the waters. They had calmed to a glass like quality. "Bastard had it coming. We both agree on that."

"Major," a third voice interrupted. Speaking of the devil. Second Lieutenant Cody Bressler had succeeded in coming up behind the pair. He was clad in standard Marpat fatigues, green of course, with olive drab vest and knee pads. The standard cut hard to see given the darkness of his hair. The light farmer's tan veiled by the twilight. They were an odd looking trio standing along the rail.

"Lieutenant," Master Chief greeted him warmly.

"Master Chief," he reciprocated the greeting. "Major; It's ready." He added a half smile.

"A little payback to our friends. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." Her lips curved up into a full smile. Not a common sight these days.

"I can only imagine," the older Marine joined them at the railing, coming to stop between the Master Chief and Major. "So let me get this straight: You and the Captain are going to swim ashore to the tiny island, set up shop, take the system out, then take a moonlight swim back."

"Yep," she grinned like a cat that had caught the canary. "But I wouldn't call it anything pleasurable."

"Compared to what you two have in store for Ruskov? There is an element of pleasure being derived from this."

Master Chief chuckled but the smile collapsed from the Major's lips.

"I can't thank you enough for what you did." She awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck keeping her eyes downward. "I-I still don't remember parts of that night. It eludes me. It's like a fog that I can't navigate no matter where I go or how fast I travel."

Master Chief and Bressler shivered at her admission. Perhaps it was best she didn't. Both having the sickening honor of being the few to bear witness to the drug lord's handiwork. Master Chief prayed to God she would never have to relive any second of it. He prayed for her despite her objections. Bressler had taken a more realistic approach. He simply watched. Watched for the signs and behaviors. Eckert too would take silent sentinel when needed; slipping updates to Tom or Bressler if something would arise.

"When an officer is down, it doesn't matter if they're Army, Navy, Marine Corps, Coast Guard, or Air Force. Leave no fallen comrade behind. That son of a bitch was an animal. No, I take that back; an animal doesn't do that."

"Yeah well we're here and he's not." Her eyes narrowed to a set of dangerous slits. "One less asshole the world has to deal with. Now we can focus on the asshole over there," her finger jutted out, directed at the Vyerni. "He's like a cockroach; somehow surviving and reappearing. I wish they had taken him out the first time. But the Captain wanted to try diplomacy which didn't end well. Cost the James two good men."

"Almost five," Master Chief chimed in. "Remember, you and Lieutenants Foster and Green almost didn't make it back." The inclusion of her into the crew made the anxieties alleviate slightly.

"Right," she answered flatly then met the patient gaze of the Marine. "Let's get moving."

* * *

Tom watched as Alex slipped into the flotation device. The standard cargo pants and slightly baggy Nathan James shirt clung to her frame which drew attention from more than one person on the ship. The loose sleeves masked the multitude of burns that marred the upper arms and shoulders. She had lost some weight since Nicaragua which inwardly concerned him. If had made an insistence to eat, she would dismiss his worries and resume working in the lab. Even Tex had made a few comments regarding her gaunt face.

_"Commodore, I'm no expert but Alex doesn't look too healthy. She looks kind of like a skeleton. You know, sunken cheeks and vacant expression. The Callista Flockhart look does not suit her."_

"So, what's the plan?" She finished adjusting the straps and looked expectantly towards him. Indigo crescents aged her features; perhaps as much as 10 years! She continued refusing any pharmaceutical intervention, instead allowing her mind to torment her upon a whim. It was killing him to see her suffer. Why did she continue to insist on this damned penance?

"We swim towards the island, set up the gun, and you take the shot."

"Sounds easy enough." She dropped on the bench. "Hopefully Ruskov won't be smart enough to anticipate our plan of attack. But given our track record..." Head dropped unceremoniously into waiting hands.

"You heard Mike," he dropped alongside her. "He's got us covered." His reassurance was welcome but she couldn't shake the shadow of uncertainty.

"You're, you're right," she shook head faster than she wanted. "Maybe they're liquored up on vodka. You know how Russians LOVE their drink."

"Well let's hope so."

Neither one spoke as an awkward silence settled between them. Alex took a deep breath and heaved a heavy sigh then looked to Tom with heavy eyes.

"I'm sorry," she felt the need to apologize.

"For what?" Tom tilted his head, confused at this sudden and unexpected confession.

"That we haven't found a vaccine yet; that we don't have that Holy Grail in our hands." She parted her hands revealing identical calloused palms. "I can see the disappointment in some. They don't want to say it but it's there."

"Alex," he shook his head. "I put too much on yours and Rachel's shoulders. I expected miracles from you both. It was wrong of me to place such expectations upon either one of you. If anyone it should be me apologizing to you."

"At least we have a lead," she lifted her head up, showing off the glimmer of light shimmering in the fathomless pools. "It's more than what we started with at Gitmo: Nothing. You know, Rachel wasn't too happy about you pulling me away from work. I guess Mike will find a way to placate her."

Tom chuckled at this. Alex felt a burden lifting off her chest. It was rare to see him smile, let alone laugh. The specter of Death had stalked them the entire way; darkening their path in the manifestations of walking dead. He knew about the bottle concealed in the cabin she shared with Rachel. Tom couldn't and wouldn't pass judgment upon her for it as he too divulged in the burning golden amber alongside her in more than one instance.

"Gator said the current will deliver us parallel to shore so we don't have to swim as hard. Coming back is a different matter."

"Hmmm," she nodded thoughtfully. "Good thing we're both strong swimmers. I think our little adventure highlighted that."

"I think you're right," he acquiesced.

"Well, I think Bressler's waiting on us. Better not keep him waiting."

* * *

Alex was quietly thankful they were in warmer waters now. Gator had reassured her at least five times the temperature was 75 degrees which meant she wouldn't freeze to death. Mike had shook his head at her but remained tight lipped. After their last expedition he could understand why she would harbor such a distinct reservation.

"Alright," Bressler loaded the gun onto a flat piece of metal they recovered from their last supply run. "Rounds are in the magazine." The case was watertight with a firm but accommodating lining which encased the precious firearm in comfort. Hopefully it would stay. The last thing Alex wanted was to incur any wrath or at the very least a parent style lecture covering the care of a high powered weapon. It would simply exit the opposite ear any phrases or sentences entered.

Bressler issued a final glance over before giving the thumbs up to Miller. "Remember, go slow."

"Got it," the enlisted man, along with Burk, slowly eased the rope over the side. Alex was making her way down the Jacob ladder with Tom following suit. It swayed and smacked the steel hull but it didn't waver their resolve as they trekked further down. The Captain caught a fleeting glimpse of Alex as she held fast, grappling each rung with ease. She was nimble, he would give her that; compared this larger heavier frame she possessed the grace of a coryphee.

The water was warm; bathtub warm once it saturated the sand cargo pants and cobalt shirt. She estimated it to be about 80 degrees. Her hand palmed the hull, retaining her body close to the James. Tom slipped in, exhaling loudly.

"It's not cold." Alex shook her head teasingly. The slab cut between them, quietly resting upon the water. Tom looked up to see Mike giving the thumbs up.

_"After you make the shot, get your asses back in the water. A RHIB will be on standby."_

"Roger that," Tom responded and tipped back with the loop curled comfortably in his grasp. Alex waited until he hooked it around his boot and returned forward. "Ready?"

"I've been ready for a long time." He could hear the smile in her voice. It was contagious.

* * *

It was a pleasant silence shared between them. The constant slap then splash as the two figures cut through the water played out like a beautiful tune. Tom remembered in his early days of the Navy how he would spend hours swimming; sometimes in the security of a lap pool and others on days when the Atlantic would tolerate the very presence of humans in her berth. Alex kept her focus; suppressing any urge to hold a conversation. Energy was precious; to be reserved for the mission at hand. Her stomach rumbled and she thanked the merciful seas for masking the thunderous roar. While she had been hungry, she couldn't tolerate any food. There was no medical explanation necessary for she knew the reason. Perhaps some nice hot coffee or tea when she returned would quell it; among other things.

"You think the Russians suspect anything?"

Tex questioned Mike who was back on the bridge. The XO had the binoculars glued to his eyes as he observed the larger ship. So far, nothing.

"Ruskov will be on guard. He isn't stupid."

"But he's one arrogant son of a bitch," the former contractor snorted. "He may think he has us in a corner. Probably on another binge with the rest of them. Vodka probably flows more freely than water over there."

"I think they learned their lesson after Gitmo. They'll be watching us."

Bressler remained tense as he stood on the opposite side. His jaw clenched then relaxed as steely gaze darted across the length of the Vyerni.

_"We don't have any viable options Cody. It was the Captain who devised the plan. I just happened to be skilled in the fine art of sniping so I volunteered. Look, I've been in worse situations; you know this."_

_"Yeah I'm painfully aware of this."_

_"Then trust me on this okay? We have darkness on our side."_

_"You damn well know that isn't enough."_

_"I'm one of the few who can use the Barrett. I'm not getting talked out of this."_

"Hey LT you alright over there?" The Marine blinked and looked to Tex. An eyebrow was quirked up. "You look about as pissed as a dog shitting tacks over there."

"I'm fine Tex," he realized his posture was rigid which he quickly softened. "I'm just concerned about this whole thing. Last time those two went venturing off the James..."

"Ruskov thought he had the prize." Mike finished.

"Well you know Alex boys: She is one of the most stubborn human beings on this ship." Tex kept rolling. "She's like a Pit Bull, won't let go of the bone or in this case the gun."

"Don't remind me," Mike shook his head. "Don't remind me."

"Well that stubbornness is what kept her and the hope alive. After the lab ordeal, it showed the everyone there was a chance and still is."

* * *

Tom was the first to feel the kiss of sand beneath his boots. Alex smiled through the lapping waves and dragged her body upon the shore. The dull roar was a blessing; a congratulations in a salutatory manner. A small grunt followed up with an abrupt thud alerted Tom to Alex having collapsed to her knees. Her hands were gripping the tops of her thighs as she took in a long deep breath. The silvery light of the moon was blocked by his impressive form giving her pause to look up. While she couldn't see the growing worry, Alex could feel its very presence.

"I forgot my land legs," she shrugged. "Oops."

She started to rise but was greeted halfway with a powerful arm encircling her waist. Her own arm wrapped around his narrow one, clutching it precariously until she was able to stand on her own.

"Thanks," she kicked the soft damp grains with the toe of her boot as he released her. "We need to dig a foxhole; one deep enough for me to kneel in. May be best to dig a shallower trench so I can have better aim. We can cover the gun with the metal."

"On it," Tom passed the case over before commandeering the shard. Using it as a makeshift shovel, he found the ground slightly difficult to plow; on account of the water saturating every inch of sand. His body pushed, muscle expanding then contracting as mound after mound of heavy earth was hoisted behind and to the side. Alex busied herself with fetching the two sets of earplugs before taking the pen light out and clenching it firmly between her teeth. With a faint click, the case was highlighted allowing her to flip the case snaps open.

Tom heard the sigh of relief and paused to see her inspecting the three parts. Scope in left hand, barrel in right. Snap, click. The magazine slid into place.

"Come here and see if this will work," Tom hopped out of the pit he had carved. He watched as Alex took his place, inspecting the hole with the tiny beacon. She knelt down then made a box with her right and left hands; the Vyerni centered in her sight.

"Perfect," she nodded. Tom started on the shallower longer trench which he found easier to construct than the main component. The Barrett would fit down in the chasm, covered with the metal as to muffle the muzzle flash and report.

Alex gently placed the Barrett in the trench while he shielded it with the metal.

"Here," she presented a set of ear plugs. "You might want to use these. It's going to get a little loud down here."

He hastily collected and shoved them in each ear. Alex was already dropping back into the hole, adjusting the scope. Wait, which one was the target?! Too many possibilities. Too many wrong targets.

The sudden clasp of a hand caused her heart to halt but her feet shot up beneath her. The brief shot of adrenaline kick started her heart and muscles. Alex didn't hear Tom closing in behind her as her senses were narrowed; trained on the Vyerni and dulling outside interference.

"Jesus," she leaned against the wall and clutched a hand over her chest.

"Sorry," he responded quietly. "Do you know which one?"

Alex shook her head, briefly forgetting they were in the dark. "No, I don't." Chagrin settled in and she was thankful he couldn't see her face starting to burn up from her ignorance.

"Look back through the scope."

Alex resumed her position in the hole.

"Alright."

"Now, see where the bridge and wheel house is?"

"Yep," both were in sight.

"Now, look above the bridge. There should be two large slab looking components."

"I see them." She adjusted the sharpness of the scope, placing the targets in the crosshairs.

"One shot, dead center to each."

"Put your earplugs in," she slammed hers back in. Tom pressed his back in and watched.

"до свидания," she muttered as her finger curled around the trigger and squeezed.

The eruption of flame, electronics, and metal brightened the scope and her eye. How she wished she could've heard the beautiful sound of round into plate. Better than any Rolling Stone track at that instant. She attempted to conjure an image of what it could sound like. Perhaps like it played out in the movies. Where steel whined and screeched as it was bent or contorted into oblong shapes or designs.

Tom was already flipping the sheet off and grabbing her by the shoulders.

"Come on!"

* * *

Ruskov was seated in his private quarters; savoring the company of Kelly Tophet once again.

"My dear, you haven't touched your drink."

Kelly simply snorted and pushed the shot glass towards him. "I'm not feeling well tonight." Her voice held the venom and contempt that greeted him since the first day they were "introduced" in London. Sergei was dead. A bullet between the eyes with a Markov. Quincy had been in the Arctic with Rachel; away from his family while playing globetrotter with that looney bird.

"That is a shame," he patronized her with a clicking of his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It didn't stop him from reaching across the table and helping himself to the warming offering. He was always clad in his dress uniform; complete with a cigarette or two close by. He never allowed anyone to catch a glimpse of his genuine thoughts or emotions for it would be weakness to reveal such to an enemy. The steely demeanor reminded Kelly of a predator; always stalking in the shadows, patience its ally.

Kelly was perched in the chair like a frightened animal. Ava was alone in their room. While Ruskov guaranteed her daughter's safety in her absence, it didn't ease the growing cold fanning out from her spine across her body. She told Ava to always keep the door locked until she returned. Ava didn't disappoint her mother.

"Captain!" One of the officers barged through the door. He was panting hard; sweat glistening his brow as she leaned heavily upon the door for support.

"это лучше иметь важное значение!" His face twisted into a dark deadly snarl.

"Радар и наведения ракет была уничтожена."

It didn't take him any time to come to one conclusion.

"Chandler..."

* * *

Alex snapped the case shut, loading it onto the slab with Tom keeping watch for any activity from the Vyerni. Together they sprinted for the breakers with the metal and case between them. It tilted at an angle due to the gross difference in height but the case kept centered, bouncing slight once their bodies collided with the wall of foam.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Fine. But I suspect I may have a bruise tomorrow." Alex waded deeper into the waves, feeling the strength of the water pushing back. Tom lassoed the rope back around his ankle and together they started back for the James. "I'm pretty sure Mike's getting the RHIB deployed right about now."

They padded hard and fast but the currents were against them this time.

To their left, the sparks and glow of the shredded metal, wires, and steel lit up the immediate vicinity like a macabre torch. Alex didn't get any time to take in the results of her calm but deadly aim. By now, Ruskov was on the bridge, ordering one of the Zodiacs out.

Their progress minute, painful as they struggled to keep at an angle towards the James. Tom could hear the increasing pants from his left as his companion's energy depleted faster than they could put distance between them and shoreline. The Atlantic carried on with its tormenting jerks and pulls beneath the surface, invisible hands which hindered them.

To the direction of the Vyerni, a dull roar rapidly dominated the air.

"We have company."

"Imagine that." Alex spat another mouthful of tepid seawater, grimacing at the ridiculous amount of salt that invaded her tongue and throat. It burned against them but that was minor compared to what was speeding their way.

* * *

"Where's my RHIB?! Is she in the water?! Please tell me she is!"

Mike paced across the bridge waiting for word. The Marines, led by Bressler, were first to sign up and lend a hand in retrieving the Captain and Major. The instant the sky turned orange and yellow, he was making the call. XO was grateful for the additional hands. The Marines had been nothing short of a miracle from where he stood. Extra eyes, ears, and more importantly fighting power.

"Sir," Granderson hollered over her shoulder. "The Russians have deployed one of their Zodiacs! It's headed straight for the Captain and Major."

"Shit," he cursed loud enough for everyone in the immediate area to hear.

"RHIB is in the water! I repeat, RHIB is in the water!" Foster was the voice of relief. Those words were what he needed for his stressed mind and soul. Now all he could do was stand and watch; watch with bated breath as the blip on the radar zipped across the screen and pray.

* * *

"Cavalry's on the way!" Tom spotted the RHIB slicing across the water. His body ached, screaming with the flames of agony as they burned harder with each stroke or kick. He could feel the fibers straining then teeter on the verge of breaking before drawing back and reigniting in a fury.

"Great! Because I'd like to make a complaint to the Captain about this cruise! The recreational activities suck!"

Leave it to Alex to crack a smart ass remark right as the Russians were bearing down on them. But he knew why she did it. Her peripheral vision picked up the Zodiac as it came into the very edge of her left. Suddenly, an explosion of salt, foam and bullets created a water storm around them.

"Shit!" Tom froze and clutched his right arm but didn't waver in his will.

"How bad?!" Alex hollered but continued moving.

"I think it grazed my arm."

"Fucking Ruskov!" Her arm shot out from the water with middle finger jutting proudly from the center. "Up yours you prick!"

Now her anger superseded any initial or lingering fears or anxieties. Adrenaline was pumping hard and fast through their veins as they focused on overriding the undercurrent. The second wind blessed them both as they found strength from the depths.

"SHIT!" Several bullets whizzed by them; one millimeters from Alex's throat. The ripple of air was the only indication. "That was close!"

* * *

Green steered the RHIB as Sterling aimed the gun.

"FIRE!" He hollered as loud as he could. His lungs burned with the roar of his command and spray of the seas. The Marine automatically responded with a hail of return fire upon their foe, training the parade of shells on the men determined to eliminate the threat. Green maneuvered the RHIB so it was blocking the Captain and Major from the metallic rain. Sterling never let up on his barrage as the Zodiac had backed off but refused to back down. It turned sharp right, circumventing the RHIB as Sterling swung his body and weapon as one.

"Oh Hell no!" He snarled and resumed fire. "You are NOT getting away that easily!"

Green shifted around, closing in on the pair in the water. He could see through the shimmering light of the moon that the Captain was putting his effort into one arm. The Major was fighting hard for them both.

"Miller!"

Miller was leaning over the side, collecting Alex first. "Major," he grabbed her by the seat of her pants and hoisted her over in one throw. She landed with a groan and thud before panting hard and gulping every breath.

"Captain...bullet..." she spat out. Miller threw the case over then grabbed the Captain's hands. "Sir! You've been hit!"

"I'm fine!" Tom shouted back as Green grabbed his CO by the belt and helped him climb over onto the deck. "It just grazed me."

Alex couldn't move save for the arm collapsed across her eyes. Her heart continued his fevered dance against the sternum, threatening to pummel it at any second. Her mind had disconnected from the situation. The sounds of the RHIB and shouts of the men had blurred and dulled across her ears.

"Major!" Miller was tugging at her torso, leaning her upright against the side. "Major are you alright?!"

She blinked twice. Reality crashed like a train into her senses.

"Fuckers!" Her lips crafted.

"The Major is alright," Tom reassured the trio as her hand shot back up with middle finger displayed once again. "Disregard her actions."

"Aye aye," Miller nodded as Sterling and Green nodded and kept watch for the Russians.

"I think I may have disabled the Zodiac, Sir," Sterling pointed starboard. The acrid stench of smoke wafted across the water, perverting the crisp scent of the sea.

"I think you're right Sterling," Tom grinned. "Good work!"

"Thank you Sir," the younger Marine couldn't but help to grin at his victory. Bressler was gonna love hearing this.

"How's your arm?" Alex pieced a coherent sentence together. She slid across the slick surface of the RHIB until she was seated beside Tom. It was difficult, to say the least, to assess how bad or deep the wound was.

"It's just a flesh wound," he countered.

"Bullshit! You're gonna have Doc Rios get that fixed up. You know what can happen out here to an untreated tissue wound? This coming from a man who spent most of his life on the water and in some of the least sanitary corners of the world."

"You're pulling that card?"

"Damn right I am," he heard the grin cutting in her tone. He felt her hands running over the shredded bits of fabric, ripping them away as to clear the area. Her fingers were careful, calculated as they ran slowly over the unaffected areas. "It's not large thankfully." It didn't hurt, having her touching or messing with the injury. It had to be the adrenaline numbing any pain which otherwise would have surfaced by now. "Probably need a stitch or two."

He was grateful they were in the dark as his good hand had enclosed around hers. Tom needed to feel her, even if it was a discreet but powerful gesture.

"Are you gonna reprimand me for giving the Russians the finger twice? Because I'll argue it was warranted."

Green, Miller, and Sterling attempted to suppress any laugh but failed miserably as their lips expressed what sounded like raspberries.

"No, Major, I didn't see anything." The pressure around her hand tightened.

They remained that way until the burning lights of the James embraced them back.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: до свидания - Goodbye
> 
> это лучше иметь важное значение – This better be important
> 
> Радар и наведения ракет была уничтожена – The radar and missile guidance has been destroye


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't own anyone but The Major (Alex) and those kick ass Marines: Bressler, Sterling, and Eckert!

 

_**Guantanamo Bay.....1 year ago.....** _

Pissed didn't begin to describe what the Major was feeling at that particular moment. Her head was throbbing, thanks to the pistol whipping courtesy of Rachel's comrade, Quincy. Captain Chandler had been insistent, no dragged her down to medical where Doc Rios was currently tending to the laceration across the back of her skull. Her tongue was still as military discipline had kicked in, preventing the slew of vulgarity laden declarations which would only deepen the hole she was in with the CO and XO.

 

_ That son of a bitch better be thankful he has MP's guarding his ass and he's locked up in the fitness room AWAY from me!  _

 

“It's nothing serious Major,” Doc Rios's calming tone shattered her inner monologue. “A few stitches to close the wound.” 

 

“Joy,” she muttered under her breath. “How is this going to affect my ability to be in the lab?”

 

“Shouldn't so long as you follow PPE protocols. I would recommend perhaps something to cover your head prior to donning any suit.”

 

“Won't be a problem Doc,” the Major let out a heavy sigh. The adrenaline was already wearing off, letting the dull ache amplify with each beat of her heart. “Got something for this skull splitter?”

 

“Skull splitter?” Doc Rios realized what she meant after he opened his mouth. “Right, the intense migraine that you're currently experiencing. I can give you Tylenol but you NEED to rest. You took a rather nasty hit from that gun.”

 

His gloved hands glided effortlessly across the angry red gash that marred the strands of chocolate. He had seen worse in combat but still, he took each case with the same degree of seriousness and care even if it was one of the cooks cutting their index finger while slicing celery for soup.

 

“Is that all I can get? Do you think I have a concussion? I mean you don't exactly sound upbeat about this whole thing.”

 

Her ears caught the clamp tightening down on the needle and suture as he prepared to complete the final stitch. The jerking motions tugged at her scalp but the anesthetic had dulled the nerves an hour before. It was strange, no matter the number of times she had a gunshot wound, knife injury, or other deep cut, having a part of her body being jerked and shifted but no feeling to accompany it.

 

“It is possible given that your brain and skull had a degree of trauma inflicted upon it. I don't want to chance you having any complications so you have to be reduced on shifts. And giving you something like Advil or Ibuprofen can increase chances of bleeding. Does that answer your questions?”

 

“NO WAY!” Her arms shot out from her sides. “What I'm doing is time sensitive. I just can't quit mid tests and let all that work falter.”

 

“Doc's right,” Tex was hovering in the doorway. His right hip pushing into the metallic frame and the disapproving stare which caused her to roll her eyes. “Your noodle got rattled pretty good back there.”

 

“Not you too,” the Major bemoaned. Since when did Tex become a fucking medical expert?!

 

“If you're not playing with a full deck, you're gonna make a mistake Major. You're being as stubborn as a jackass.”

 

“Tell me something we don't know Tex,” Doc simply exhaled, tired from the recent “tours” of duty in his ward. Garnett continued to remain under his care, unable to return to duty thanks to Amir's little welcoming party. She wasn't particularly thrilled over the prospect of being on bed rest but she didn't let on to the others.

 

“Well you two try being on the receiving end of a Baretta Bitchslap!” The Major hissed with upper lip curled into a rather nasty snarl. “Ow!”

 

“You need to remain still Major,” Doc chided mildly. “If you don't it won't heal right.”

 

“Yes Dad,” another muttering beneath her breath before going rigid in the highly uncomfortable metallic chair. Tex laughed which earned him a nasty glare of icy blue. He simply shrugged his shoulders as her threats were about solid as water.

 

“I see the Major wasn't seriously injured.”

 

Captain Chandler was now leaning in the doorway. An unreadable expression lined his face. He saw the Major's shoulders slump upon recognition of his presence.

 

_ Joy....... _ The Major groaned inwardly. 

 

“Captain,” the Major greeted cordially. She wasn't in the mood to contend with a one two punch. Not now.

 

“Major Koch will be fine,” Doc Rios sounded relieved though the Major couldn't blame him. She wasn't the best patient. Had Mark still been alive he would attest to her defiance like a witness on the stand. “She has some stitches and a headache but I strongly advised her to reduce her time in the lab.”

 

The Major winced at the final tug on her skull. He did that on purpose.

 

“I agree,” the Captain spoke up. He had been observing her sitting there at the mercy of Doc Rios. It was rather appeasing and humorous to see her there tight lipped and not standing off with his XO. Silence is golden as they say.

 

“No,” the Major cut her right hand across her chest. “I will be FINE. I have been in worse situations.”

 

“Well I don't think you have to worry about being shot at by drug cartel thugs. Though you may have to watch out for XO Slattery.”

 

“That's worse,” she snorted. “At least the thugs knew when to back down.”

 

“Which is why he makes a fine XO.” Chandler frowned as he remembered his second in command was interrogating Dr. Tophet. They had come God knows how close to having the Ramses strain unleashed on the James. His right hand absently twisted the golden band on his left ring finger. No word from home since the video transmission from Darien. No radio, video, SOS, Morse, nothing. Sure there was the endless parade of calls for help from all corners of the world. People clinging to the fringes of what had been civilization, refusing to let hope die out like a flame in the rain. Some were low on supplies. Some were low on fresh water. Some were out of faith. 

 

The crew harbored their own personal anxieties and trepidations regarding the loved ones and friends left behind. Each day had brought promises of contact; of that one phrase many wished, no longed to hear.

 

_ We're still alive...... _

 

Chandler knew the Major had her own fears within but didn't pry out of respect. He didn't ask Dr. Scott to divulge either as she too was in the same mental capacity of not knowing. Wondering if her kin and friends were still breathing or worse. 

 

“You, rest,” Doc Rios issued his order. “I don't think much will be accomplished after tonight. Besides, I can tell you're exhausted.”

 

“You're no good if you're tired Major,” Chandler used a softer tone. “I would strongly urge you to heed Doc Rios's medical assessment and treatment.”

 

The Major knew she was outnumbered. Tex was still in the background, watching her with a sharp eye. She could sense Garnett was likely honed in to the activity though she was in the adjacent room and of course Captain Chandler who looked like he was about ready to hoist her over his shoulder and haul her back to her quarters and place her on CQ.

 

“Fine,” she huffed in irritation. “I'll take the night off. But I'm back on duty tomorrow.”

 

“Well see,” Captain Chandler added. Doc Rios was pressing several clean gauze pads with saline solution to cleanse the area before tenderly dabbing and sweeping the matted bits of crimson up and away from the site.

 

“Look, I can't just leave Dr. Scott in there alone. I know she's been sleeping in that damned lab because that's how she operates under these types of situations. And I KNOW you won't get her to come out of there no matter what tactic you attempt.”

 

Captain Chandler studied the Major while absorbing her words. She wasn't revealing anything earth shattering as he and the rest of the crew had been privy to the work habits and ethics of the civilian.

 

“Alex,” Rachel rushed through the door. “Are you alright?”

 

“Yeah, if you wanna call it that. I'm being ganged up on here three to one.” She pleaded with deep cerulean rings, hoping Rachel would side with her.

 

“We think the Major should take it easy what with as she called having a 'Baretta Bitchslap'.” Captain Chandler kept his unwavering stare on the Army officer. Neither he nor she was about to back down; both hardening their stares as they dug their proverbially heels in.

 

“And I said that my work is time sensitive.” The Major felt her body bristle as the bottom half of her jaw clenched and relaxed with each word. “I cannot afford to lose precious time as we've lost enough of that as is.”

 

“And how much more will we lose if you're working half assed? Again, you are NOT playing with a full deck,” Tex just had to add his insight again.

 

“Is there anything I can do to help until Major Koch is back on duty?” Rachel stepped up which cracked the Major's walls.

 

“Oh not you too Rachel!” The Major pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “Damn it.....”

 

“If it had been anywhere else on your body I wouldn't see an issue but he struck you on the head. You of all people should realize how serious that can be.”

 

“You've been busting ass and it's not right to drop my work on you.” The Major paused as she got an idea. “Why don't I do desk work? I can sit in a chair and read you know. At least I won't be as useless as tits on a boar.” She crossed her arms with a smug expression.

 

A few snickers slipped past a couple of mouths.

 

“I don't see why not,” Doc Rios shrugged then tilted his head upward towards his CO. “Captain?”

 

“If you think it would be within reason Doc I'd allow it.”

 

“I agree,” Rachel acquiesced with a nod. “She can help me interpret the data.”

 

The Major felt a tiny victorious smile creeping in the corners of her mouth. She would've lost her mind being confined to quarters with nothing aside from the ceiling and her laptop to keep her occupied. She needed stimulation, a way to keep her mind churning and processing. Data interpretation would cure that ill.

 

“Well that's settled,” Captain Chandler sighed a deep breath of relief. The last thing he wanted was to have another showdown with the Major.

 

“So what about Quincy?” The Major didn't hesitate to get to the gathering shit storm. “What's going to happen to him? I mean he did come close to killing all of us.”

 

“Dr. Tophet will be dealt with accordingly Major.” He resumed toying with his wedding band.

 

“So basically I won't get to have a word with him will I?” The smile retracted into a deep frown. Her brow furrowed in looming frustration.

 

“Not in the immediate future you won't.”

 

“He assaulted me with a deadly weapon and nearly unleashed another on this ship. He snitched to Ruskov that Rachel and I are here. Dr. Tophet is aware of what I have been doing since this cluster fuck began. I see it as being compromised. And in a very big way. And whatever it is Ruskov has he seems to be convinced we need it more than we need air. Maybe I can get it or at the very least _**something**_ out of him. While I'm sure your XO is very adept at questioning tactics but in this case it may not work.”

 

Her voice was sincere.

 

“Look, you can have whoever you want in the room with me but please let me talk to him. We need to know what he's told Ruskov or maybe find out what _he_ knows. Surely he must have some bit rattling in that empty head of his.”

 

Chandler took her offer, letting it absorb as he fixated his gaze to the floor. What harm would it be to let her confront Tophet? She seemed convinced Tophet was withholding information from them. What if he was holding back regarding the Ramses strain? Ruskov wanted the Major and Dr. Scott pretty bad.

 

“I'll think about it. Right now, you need to rest.”

 

The Major couldn't restrain the groan that rumbled in her chest and throat. She couldn't win.

 

Captain Chandler pivoted around and exited the infirmary leaving the Major to wonder.

 

“At least I don't have to stare at the wall all day,” the Major huffed in exhaustion. Her pensive shoulders fell lax as a subtle nudge on her right shoulder alerted her to Rachel standing behind her.

 

“Here,” she produced the dual tablets. The Major eagerly swiped the pills from her open palm, swallowing them dry.

 

“I'll give you more but only for every 8-12 hours.” Doc Rios cautioned.

 

“Right,” the Major was simply too happy to object as she had something in her system. How their ancestors managed without such interventions. She had been privy to one too many migraines that required the “good stuff” otherwise she would've been debilitated for days. “Thanks Doc.”

 

“You're welcome Major. Now, please take it easy? I really don't want to see you back here.”

 

“Feeling is mutual,” the Army officer nodded in acquiescence. She pushed out of the chair, finding her head was slightly light. Yeah, Quincy was NOT escaping her wrath.

* * *

“Why in the HELL is Quincy cavorting with Ruskov?” The Major snarled beneath her breath. Money wasn't a prime motive as there was no world to spend it in. What were the usual suspects in such acts again? Ideologies, romanticizing the “cause.” Yeah, that worked so well in the past. Promise of power is another. Perhaps Ruskov had seduced the good doctor with his own lab, being able to play God perhaps. Land in the emerging new world, perhaps?

 

She paused and weighed the options. While all were feasible, none were suitable.

 

Suddenly it dawned on her.

 

“Shit.....”

 

“Alex!” Rachel hurried to catch up.

 

“Family!” The Major answered. “Ruskov has someone he loves!”

 

The sickening expression fanned across the Brit's face. Her heart raced as the implications of the Major's conclusion sank in like a dead weight.

 

“Kelly and Ava. He has Quincy's wife and daughter.”

 

“What a complete bastard. He must've found them while......”

 

“He was here on the James.” Rachel rested a hand on her forehead.

 

“This isn't your fault,” the Major saw that look forming on her face. The eyes dropping, averting away from hers. “I know that look Rachel. So whatever you're thinking in that head of yours quit.”

 

“The Major's right Dr. Scott.” Captain Chandler was approaching the pair. His heavy footfalls echoed off the steel sides. How had they not heard those dull thuds?! “Dr. Tophet's actions aren't your burden.”

 

“Strong motivator, yes; but not warranted.”

 

“I'm at a complete loss,” Rachel could only shake her head in disgust. “I've worked with him for 10 years. We both had friends and cohorts in Russia.”

 

“Even I had contacts in the Vector Institute,” the Major spoke up causing Chandler to arch an eyebrow in intrigue. “What?” She felt defensive, tensing at his borderline accusatory glance. “I wasn't the only one in the US Military to have counterparts overseas. As part of my MOS I traveled to Koltslovo. They house one of the repositories for smallpox or rather housed. Great,” she flung her arms up over her head. “Who's watching the hen house?”

 

“I think that's the least of our worries right now Major Koch.” Chandler steered her back to the current situation.

 

“Right, well we need to find out how long this little romance's been going on.”

 

“No, you rest.” The Captain crossed his arms and effectively blocked her path.

 

“When will I get to talk to Dr. Tophet?” She crossed her arms and straightened her back. “He may know who was keeping tabs on Rachel and I. If he was in bed with Ruskov who knows what else he was doing or talking to.”

 

“I'll have my decision tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you,” the Major circled around and started in the direction of the galley. It was the best he would give her.

 

“Maybe you should let her talk to Quincy, Commander Chandler.” Rachel pushed the matter. “If someone was watching us before we lost contact and before her plane went down, he may have names.”

 

“XO Slattery is currently interrogating him.”

 

“Yes, I'm aware of that Captain but, perhaps Alex's presence may disarm him.”

 

“How so Doctor Scott?” What could Major Koch do that his XO couldn't?

 

“He may not be expecting a woman to question him. Perhaps she may be able to find the right buttons to push, to make him slip. You heard her, she said if you wanted security in there with her by all means have it. Give her a chance Commander? I know Alex. I've worked with her good and bad. I don't know if my word holds merit given all that's transpired but give her at least the opportunity.”

 

Captain Chandler tapped his index finger on his wedding ring.

 

“I'll inform Major Koch of my decision tomorrow. Right now she needs to take it easy.”

 

“Right,” Rachel nodded though it was a motion with no emotional backing. Maybe she could use a cup of coffee.

* * *

The Major got the next pot brewing. It was one thing she loathed back at USAMRIID: Person who took last cup of coffee didn't start new round. There was no other soul around as the excitement of the evening's events had shaken the crew up just a bit. Hell, even she was a bit rattled after Quincy nearly unleashed Hell. That stupid son of a bitch! Did he really think they would go nice and quiet like good little sheep? Well, he didn't know her very well then did he?

 

She didn't achieve the rank of Major by playing nice and clean. No, she had to get dirty and vicious to show she could hold her own against the men. Casey had seen to it her work was showcased; invaluable for research in Marburg, Ebola, and yes smallpox. Of course, it had drawn the resentment and contempt of those who felt there was no place for her kind in their fiefdom.

 

“I should've known you would be here.”

 

Tex casually strolled in and helped himself to the fresh brew.

 

“I'm hoping I can get a few moments with Quincy. Chandler's sitting on it of course.” Her hands loosely curled around the drab white mug.

 

“Don't get too down there Chief. I think the Captain will let you have a bite.”

 

The Major said nothing.

 

“You're quiet over there. Did Qunicy knock you harder on the head than you thought?”

 

“It's not that Tex. I just want answers. Who was doing surveillance on Rachel and I? Clearly we were on someone's radar aside from Ruskov's. At the time I left Guiana, things were deteriorating in DC. What was left of the Executive Branch was hightailing it to the Bunker. Judicial Branch was nonexistent. Legislative Branch....Well, let's just say like rats on a sinking ship they fled. Typical.”

 

Tex chuckled at her veiled insult.

 

“Had to be someone left. Someone or some group that carried on like nothing was happening. Now I wonder if the plane going down was really mechanical failure.”

 

“You think someone sabotaged your plane?” Alarmed at this, Tex looked around the room. They were alone.

 

“If Ruskov could get a mole on the James, what's not to say before the world went dead that someone wasn't gunning for me. The fact we have the Ramses Strain, Rachel, myself, and all of that research makes the James one big ass target.”

 

“That's a pretty tall order there Chief.” Tex studied his comrade as she continued staring blankly into her coffee. He wasn't sure if it was the effect of the injury or perhaps something unrelated that was projecting this distant gaze. She finally but slowly shook her head then lifted her head to meet his eyes.

 

“No, not really. It's not beyond the scope of government or rogue elements of one. History is ripe with such acts. With the pandemic it could easily have propelled any agenda or schemes.”

 

“You want some foil with that conspiracy theory?”

 

The Major laughed as his sharp tongue shattered the somber mood. Her right hand repeatedly slapped the table with short sharp cracks. Leave it to the former contractor to crack a joke in a time of distress.

 

“I needed that,” she smiled brightly. Any pain or trepidation was erased with the shine in her eyes. Identical sapphires that gleamed in the less than ideal lighting.

 

“Anytime,” he wrapped his arm around her with hand cupped on the outer part of her arm.

 

“Considering we spent a considerable amount of time in the wilds of Cuba thick and thin. Finding a sliver of humor in the shards of tension.”

 

“Well that's me!” He beamed proudly. A sudden rumble caused him to look strangely at the Major.

 

“Stomach,” she patted the grumbling region. “Forgot to eat. When I worked at USAMRIID, Casey would have to tell me to take a break for meals or sleep.”

 

“Well then I'm your man to keep you and the good doctor on a regular well balanced schedule of sustenance, hydration, rest, and recreational activities.”

 

“In that case,” the Major craned her neck to the left with a cheeky smile. “Lead me to the food!”

 

“I hear that Bacon is making some mean enchiladas for the evening meal. Nothing like Ol' Juan's cooking at the Foo Foo Cantina but I'm an open minded kind of person.” He added a playful wink.

 

“Better than mangoes and bananas with the occasional MRE that's for sure. At least we won't have to worry about assholes with RPGs trying to annihilate our asses.”

 

They finished their coffee in comfortable silence, feeling as if a burden had been lifted; even if it is for a few hours.

 

“We're gonna beat this thing. With you and the doctor on it like Holmes and Watson.”

 

The pair was now headed towards the main galley where the enlisted personnel were dining. The aroma of chicken, beef, and spices wafted teasingly across their noses, making mouths water more and more with each step.

 

“There's more than just a vaccine at stake. It's the fate of the human race and history.”

 

“Such the dramatic one you are,” Tex rolled his eyes but it was all in good nature.

 

“Dun dun dun,” the Major added with a small laugh as they crossed the threshold.

* * *

It was a different atmosphere in the fitness room. No one was laughing.

 

XO Slattery leaned dangerously over the back of the chair with eyes narrowing to a pair of sharp daggers. Dr. Tophet was beginning to damage his calm at this stage. His knuckles morphed into white knots as his fingers curled harder against the resilient steel. His jaw tensed, teeth scraping across one another. Seconds were shifting into minutes but to the man tied to the chair, time crawled like an infant.

 

“You wanna tell me what's going on with you and Ruskov?” Mike exercised extreme patience which was a contrast to his tenure as a homicide detective.

 

“I had only spoken to Ruskov the day we landed here!” Lies.

 

“So what you two are like Facebook friends!?”

 

“There wasn't a relationship with Ruskov!” Quincy struggled in the handcuffs but the biting metal held fast keeping him restrained.

 

“Bullshit!” Mike slammed his fists into the chair causing Quincy to recoil. “But keep on lying and see where it leads you.”

 

Quincy fought to find his breath as his heart stammered wildly in his chest. “It wasn't supposed to happen like this.”

 

“You threatened the lives of my men and women on this ship! You opened fire on my men! You assaulted an officer of the United States Army!” While he wasn't her biggest fan, Major Koch didn't deserve to be struck in such fashion. Hell, she didn't deserve it at all.

 

“Ruskov has my family! My wife and daughter are on that ship!”

 

“Yeah, we'll get that.” Mike cooled a few degrees. “What does Ruskov want with Dr. Scott and Major Koch? Hmm?”

 

“I don't know!” Quincy hollered at the top of his lungs. Blood rushed to his face turning the skin beet red. Mike was about to open his mouth but halted at the sound of the door turning then groaning open. Captain Chandler paused and took a quick assessment of the scene. Mike was perched behind a chair with hands planted tightly on the back. Quincy was cuffed to the opposite chair as two MP's were positioned behind him and two stationed behind Mike.

 

His XO rounded the chair to brief his CO. The rigid posture and heated glare reflecting in Mike's eyes told him enough.

 

“Anything?”

 

“He says he doesn't know why Ruskov wants Dr. Scott and Major Koch. His wife and daughter are on the Kirov.”

 

“It was Brit who was on the radio pretending to be the CO.”

 

“Quite a performance by your wife,” the interrogator persona returned. Mike clasped his hands behind his back as he seated himself in front of the prisoner.

 

“Kelly had nothing to do with this! She's being held against her will!!! Ruskov is using her to get to me to get to Rachel and Major Koch!” Quincy maintained his wife's innocence despite her obvious role in keeping the James in Guantanamo Bay.

 

“Then start talking!” Captain Chandler's voice boomed over both. “Because I am not the only one who thinks you are hiding more than you claim to know. How did you get involved with Ruskov?”

 

“When the pandemic was going on, governments were keeping information back, telling us to suppress the data. Vital information that could've sped up the vaccine process. But no, they refrained. So some of us decided to take matters into our own hands. I contacted my friend Sergei and we began to exchange information.”

 

“You what?!” Mike snarled angrily at the revelation. “You were leaking information!”

 

“The virus was burning through the population! Governments were having pissing matches when their own people were falling like dominoes! I couldn't sit by and do nothing! People were DYING!” What would it take for these two to get it through their heads!? He wasn't leaking anything! He wasn't a spy or double agent! He was doing the right thing! Wasn't the purpose of their mission!?

 

Chandler took a deep breath before proceeding.

 

“Ruskov said he had something that was needed to make the vaccine. Any idea of what that could be?”

 

“No,” Quincy shook his head but it was futile. Tears were rolling down his burning cheeks and neck but only he had any emotion for them. The six men standing in the room were indifferent towards his plight.

 

“What was the plan for tonight?”

 

“I was to take Rachel, the Major, and the samples across the bay in a speedboat. It's located in one of the coves to the north of here. When we approached, I was to give them a signal with a lantern also in the boat.”

 

The officers traded looks. Both knew what needed to be done. But would it work?

* * *

“I needed that,” the Major felt slightly bloated but nourished. Tex was sharing the same sentiment as he had double what she consumed. “I think my headache finally hightailed it out.”

 

“Well that's great Chief,” Tex ripped a belch that garnered a few curious stares, snickers, and shouts of encouragement.

 

“Enlisted,” the Major sighed. “Doesn't matter the branch.”

 

“You were there once. You mean to tell me you didn't rip loose some shenanigans?”

 

“I plead the 5th.”

 

“So you did!” Tex's eyes widened. “You are going to share.”

 

“Maybe,” she smiled slyly. “Maybe not.”

 

“Major Koch!” Master Chief was tearing up the way. The urgency in his stride and voice made both stop dead in their tracks.

 

“Master Chief where's the fire?” Tex waited for the man to speak.

 

“Major, you need to come with me.”

 

“Okay now what's going on?” Here it comes.

 

“The Captain needs to talk to you. It's urgent.” The Major looked to Tex who shrugged then patted her on the back before taking his leave. “No Tex you're needed as well.”

 

“I am always ready and willing to be of service to the United States Navy.” He felt a little bit taller knowing his expertise was in need once again. Not bad for a contractor who had been stuck at Camp X-Ray.

 

“Come on,” the older man took lead with the Major and Tex following in perfect cadence. “How are you feeling?”

 

“My headache is gone and I ate too much Mexican.”

 

“Good,” he gave a short nod then kept quiet the rest of the way.

* * *

Lieutenant Green, Gator, TAO Barker, XO Slattery, and Captain Chandler were converged over a map of the bay when Master Chief entered with their new arrivals. All eyes fell on them as a thick hush hugged air like fog.

 

“Tex, we need some insight.” The Captain spoke first. “Major, we need your help.”

 

Her eyes scanned the faces noting the XO didn't look like he was shitting tacks as he normally did. Perhaps his bonding time with Quincy went better than expected.

 

“What do you need from me?” She stood at attention.

 

“We'll get to that Major but first,” the Captain looked to Tex, “we need updated intel.”

 


	11. Dead Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don't own anyone but the usual suspects...
> 
> No excuses for the overdue update.

**__ **

_**Guantanamo Bay......One year prior.....** _

  
The Major eased into the seat, feeling the back top part of her head throbbing still. Doc Rios cautioned giving her any more too soon. He decided spacing out her visits was best in dispensing Imitrex as it was a potent migraine medication with no more than 200 milligrams every 24 hours. And that was IF she had a headache.

Her fingers massaged her achy temples, waiting for the magic touch of the drug to kick the pain out. She knew what day it was, where she was, and everyone's names and ranks present in the room. Well, except for Tex, who was the lone civy on board.

“Major, we need your help.”

The Major blinked absently at the Captain who continued. She took a drink of coffee, silently beseeching the caffeine to accelerate the looming silence.

“Dr. Tophet was supposed to take you and Dr. Scott across the bay to the Vyerni. We're going to do just that.”

“Wait a second,” the coffee nearly sprayed across the table as she had to refrain from shaking her head instead waving her hands in a frantic gesture. “Did I hear you right? You _**want**_ to deliver us to him!? After telling him to piss off so nicely back in the cantina?!”

Had Quincy slammed the butt of the gun harder than she or Doc Rios suspected!? Just what in the HELL was going on?!

“We need to provide a distraction.” He continued, waiting for her to collect her composure.

“Oh,” still, she was confused; slightly but it was gradual in clearing from the fog that was her mind.

“Since Ruskov set mines in the harbor, we have to find another way out.” Slattery chimed in.

“I see,” the Major smiled humorlessly. “Send in the grunt to do a sea bees' job. Sound like the Air Force and Marines.”

Tex chuckled but no one else was finding the humor in her words.

“The idea is to send three people as originally planned but with something extra.”

“So, stall the Vyerni while the James sneaks away into the night.” Tex finished the Captain's words.

“Precisely,” the Captain nodded. “The boat will have timed explosives which will be set once a certain point is reached. It's all about timing.”

“So the Major here has been drafted to play on the team.” Tex couldn't help himself.

“Exactly Tex,” Chandler acquiesced. “But the RHIB will pick them up once we see the Vyerni light up.”

“So who else will be joining me on this three hour tour?” The Major felt the dull throbbing slowly subside which made the brightness in the room less painful to her eyes. “And does the doc know about this? Considering he made it rather clear I can't do lab work let alone the idea of playing Battleship with the Russians.”

“XO Slattery explained to Doc Rios what our plan is. While he wasn't thrilled at the idea, he said he would reexamine you before departure to determine if you are able to play 'Battleship' as you put it.” Green had to suppress a smirk at the reference. For being on board for less than 72 hours, the Major was quite a firecracker.

“Well knowing the Major here, she would do it regardless of what the doc says. I mean she did go Rambo back in the warehouse on Gitmo without a second thought.” Tex offered support for his comrade.

“Thanks Tex,” she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “That was supportive but unnecessary.”

“Anytime Chief!” He slapped her shoulder a couple of times. She was going to have to sit him down for a nice chat after they got out of Cuba.

“Major, you will head down to see Doc Rios and get checked out. He'll let me know what the verdict is.” Chandler went for another round of coffee. It was going to be a long night based on the atmosphere settling into the room. The Major and his XO had exchanged a few daggers but were discreet in their actions.

“So how do I fit into this Commodore?”

Gator rolled out the topographical maps of the island, specifically the bay and harbor. Where the main entrance to the harbor was sat several large hand drawn X's. “Ruskov has the mouth of the harbor lined with mines. But,” his finger went to another location, one that was smaller and much more narrow. “There is this old channel where they run cargo ships and smaller vessels in.”

“No, no they stopped dredging that channel a while back. Coral grew back up.” Tex shot the idea down in a dejected tone.

“But we can send a couple of torpedoes and blow it back open. Smith and Bertram didn't die in vain.”

“Yeah but shooting torpedoes aren't exactly subtle or quiet.” Tex shook his head.

“Hence the distraction,” XO Slattery grinned. The Major wasn't sure if it was because she could be sent out into the danger zone or if he wanted to see the Vyerni light up or both. She suspected all three knowing what she little she did know of him.

“Anything else I need to be aware of Captain?” The Major was now standing at the coffee maker, helping herself to some of the watered down shit that was supposed to pass as coffee. She made a note to talk to Tex about seeking the real stuff when they did another stop or supply run. This was worse than horse piss.

“Once the the rest of the team is assembled and Doc Rios makes his decision, you'll be notified. For now, you're dismissed.”

“Thank you,” she took the mug with her as she departed, heading down to medical to see the doc. Yep, it was going to be a long night indeed.

* * *

 

Doc Rios carried out his series of exams, starting with the annoying light in the eyes trick.

“I'm starting to hate that pen light Doc,” the Major complained as he swept the minuscule beam from left to right then right to left.

“Sorry to inconvenience you Major,” he quipped but lacked any bite in his retort.

“I know, I know, it's your job. Believe me when I say 'I know'.”

“Considering you were injured in South America by cartel hitmen I won't discount it.” The doc took a deep breath then retracted the light and clicked it off. “Good news, depending on how you look at it: Your pupils were fine which means the head injury wasn't as severe as initially thought. However, you're still not out of the woods yet.”

“So, will I be setting sail or be confined to dry land?”

Doc Rios sat there, studying the Major.

“How's your head feeling?” He scribbled some notes in a file.

“Better. It's nice not feeling like someone's personal drum. I've had migraines that were worse.” Her hand reached up and fingers lightly dabbed at the handful of stitches. It felt out of place, the small exposed patch, but that was minute compared to the scope of their situation. “I want to do this Doc. I can do this. Jumping feet first into water won't hurt my head and frankly, I feel it should be me and not one the ship's crew.”

“Admirable,” Doc nodded.

“But you're gonna say no.”

“Actually,” Doc wrapped up his observations and flipped the file over. His eyes widened before he took a long deep breath. “I'm going to release you for this.”

The Major raised an eyebrow. Really?!

“But, once you're back on board, you're coming straight here for observation.” His voice bordered between authoritative and parental.

“Yes Sir,” she was inwardly relieved but held her poker face. No need to be overexcited. Her pulse quickened as she turned and proceeded topside.

* * *

 

“So the Warden's letting you out?”

Tex watched as the Major climbed into the speedboat. Now, the skies were inky, concealing the identities of its crew.

“Yeah for a little bit. You know, stretch my legs.” She watched as several crew members loaded explosives and confirmed the timing mechanism was ready.

“Once you reach the first designated point, give the signal,” Chandler reiterated the plan. “Then once the second point is reached, send the second. Remember, do not deviate. Ruskov will be watching.”

“Aye, Sir,” Green nodded as Foster eased alongside the Major. She noted the younger lieutenant was in civilian attire with hair down, similar to Rachel's style. Hopefully, the Russians didn't know what they looked like or else they may be sunk before even leaving.

“Let's rock,” the Major muttered as the boat was lowered smoothly along the side until it touched down onto the still seas. Both women nestled high power rifles across their laps.

_I can knock the nipples off a chicken at 100 yards_

The younger lieutenant's response to the Commander's question had made her smirk behind the latter's back. Who would've guessed chickens had nipples? Then again, she was from a more urban landscape versus Foster's agricultural upbringing.

* * *

 

The bow sliced the glassy surface with ease as Green steered the vessel towards the Vyerni. The Major could make out parts of the Kirov, particularly the deck. They were watching their approach. She shivered though Foster and Green didn't catch the unease that reverberated across her body. It was unusually warm for the time of year but then again, warnings of the climate heating up had been screamed across the scientific world for years. The same uptick in temperature which allowed for the Ramses strain to return.

Green gave the initial signal.

The tiny flip of fingers and metal alerted the James they were halfway there.

Suddenly, the darkness was silenced with the flood of light trained on the approaching craft. Green held up the empty case, showing the Russians he had “the samples.” The hat Quincy had been wearing earlier was fitted firmly on his head, which shaded his face from anyone who may be using binoculars.

“No turning back now,” the Major hollered as she drummed her fingers along the side of her weapon. Foster had armed the weapon seconds before the blinding greeting the Russians continued to bestow upon them.

“Green, what the HELL are you doing?!!?”

The speed started to slack as Green backed off the throttle.

“They're gonna know something's up! Are you trying to get us killed!??!”

He shut her berating words out and turned to Foster who was staring in bewilderment.

* * *

 

“Something's happened.” Slattery noticed the sky had not lit up like Chicago on the 4th. He clenched his fists and kept his watch. Ruskov had found them out!

“Wait for it,” Chandler calmly asserted his command. He wasn't one to give up so quickly. While he remained cool to anyone who looked, inside, he was growing uneasy. The Vyerni should've been burning bright by now.

“Captain, we're approaching the channel. Do we fire?” Gator forced himself to breathe. The last time he had conducted a successful dead reckoning was in training. And that was a simulation! This was real time, real world, and real coral. No errors.

“Wait,” Chandler kept the phone clutched firmly in hand.

* * *

 

“Damn it Green!” The Major wasn't sure if he was crazy or trying to play fucking hero. Maybe it was both.

“Jump!”

As if a snake had bitten her on the ass, the Major pivoted then leaped into the bay in one hard fast act. The firearm was still in her grip but it was an afterthought. Her mind swirling as water rushed around her in a fury of foam and water. The boat's roar faded overhead until she heard the muffled boom of the explosives. She looked up through the glassy water, seeing the moon illuminating the way up.

* * *

 

“THERE!” Slattery excitedly hollered at the orange yellow glow that cast over the hills and jungles.

“Fire! Fire! I repeat! Fire torpedoes!” Chandler was on it the instant his XO spotted the explosion. He knew they would persevere. His faith in the trio didn't waver though he did secretly admit to himself he was nervous. But his anxieties about navigating the narrow berth was another story altogether. He resorted to closing his eyes and taking a few deep long breaths until word of the James clearing or rather slipping through the coral hurdle came across.

* * *

 

The second deep roar from the right caused Foster, Green, and the Major to snap their heads in unison. The air was thick with billowing plumes of smoke which obstructed the impact site on the starboard side. A hint of fuel, acrid smoke, and a few unidentifiable sources polluted the otherwise fresh night.

“Sounds like they got the message,” Green spat the warm saline water from his mouth. The Major turned and glared at the younger officer. Through the night, he sensed her rising displeasure. He was ready for whatever she hurled at him. She could bring it.

“What in the HELL were you thinking?! You realize you damn near jeopardized everything!”

“I was thinking, Ma'am, that I was offering Lieutenant Foster and you the chance to jump ship before impact.”

He was a shitty liar.

She shook her head and continued treading, waiting for the arrival of the RHIB. Officers nowadays....

* * *

 

The outburst of applause, whistles, and calls of celebration greeted everyone upon their return. All the Major wanted was to strip, shower, and sleep. Her mind was taxed and body sore. The clothing she had been wearing now clung heavily to her body, saturated and dripping furiously along the hems and cuffs. She was pretty sure her skin was flared where it smacked the water after their escape, making her think of when her brother's stomach would be deep tomato or strawberry colored after one of his famous belly flops. He always bitched it stung.

After making it through the walk of shoulder claps and back slaps, the Major trudged towards the nearest bulk head door. Before her hand could jerk the handle to the side, voices halted her movements.

“We're not.....We're not supposed to be together!”

That was Green. And she had caught the end of a conversation not for her ears.

“Look, Kara, I love you. But stay away from me.”

_That explains the slowing down. He wanted her to jump off sooner. Yeah, Romeo he is not when it comes to words. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Not my circus, not my monkeys._

Shaking her head, the Major retreated below deck. Doc Rios was waiting.

* * *

 

“So, how did you enjoy your little swim?”

“It was simply refreshing Doc,” the Major smiled tiredly. “Nothing like the sight and smell of a Russian Kirov being impacted by explosives to make a woman feel better.”

“Well then,” he chuckled in turn. “Sounds like you are feeling better. Doesn't mean you're off the hook.”

“I know,” she spied the bottom bunk in the adjacent room. “I already have my reservations for one.”

Chandler made his way down to medical bay. He wanted to talk to the Major and find out what happened out there. He missed the opportunity as she had went straight to her bunk, showered, then proceeded to see Doc Rios.

“Doc,” he made the familiar turn on the right. Doc Rios came from the back room.

“Captain,” he greeted his superior. “What can I do for you?”

“I'd like to speak to Major Koch.” His hand twisted the band on his left ring finger as he leaned into the doorway..

“Let's see if she's awake. I gave her something as she said her head was starting to hurt again.”

The Captain glanced back at the sleeping form on the bottom bunk. She was clad in sweats and yellow Navy shirt. Her hair still damp from showering. She looked peaceful; on account her mouth wasn't running or clashing with his XO. But, she did save his ass and for that she had his eternal gratitude.

“She's out cold. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Yeah, she needs to rest. She had a rather active 48 hours.” So much for that.

“When she's awake I'll let you know.” Doc Rios reassured the Captain before he turned and left the Hospital Corpsman to his duties.

Chandler had made it 20 feet from the door when he heard the blood curdling scream. His feet instantly pivoted the rest of his body around, sprinting back to medical.

“Major! Major Koch!” Doc Rios had her arms clamped down to the mattress as the Major had started thrashing wildly about. Her eyes remained firmly shut as she remained unresponsive to the Doc's calls.

“Doc what's going on!?” Chandler rushed through the door.

“It's the Major. She started screaming then kicking and punching. She's not waking up!”

The wails and shrieks raged on, causing some of the passing crewmen to pause and wonder what was going on. A couple of nurses hurried out, ushering the curious enlisted men away.

“Doc, what can I do?”

“Hold her arms for me and talk to her; see if she'll wake up.”

Doc and Chandler swapped places, with the Captain restraining the Major's arms tightly to the bedding with Doc Rios pressing her legs down to prevent limb and metal from colliding.

“Major Koch! Major Alexandra Koch! You need to wake up! It's NOT real!” He had never had to bring anyone down from something like this. Sure Sam and Ashley would have the occasional nightmare but this, this was on a completely different scale.

“NOOOOOOO!!! PLEASE!!!! I NEED TO SEE HIM!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!”

“Major, Major WAKE UP!!!” Chandler continued to reach out, hoping she would just wake up.

“HE NEEDS ME!!!! DAMN IT WHY WON'T YOU LET ME IN!!!!”

“Damn it Major!! You have to wake up NOW!” He felt frustration attempting to settle in as the Major continued pleading with the unseen person or persons.

“What's wrong with her Doc!?” His eyes begging the man to give him something, anything that would explain this. “Is-Is this a nightmare?! A break down what?!”

“I don't know for sure. But if I had to guess, I would say night terror.”

“Night terror?!”

“Yeah, it's a nightmare on steroids.”

“Jesus.....”

Before he could attempt to try and wake her up a third time, the Major went deathly silent. Chandler and Doc Rios felt their hearts stop at the sudden abatement in screams or movement. Doc sprang into action, leaving over the Major's still form with fingers pressed firmly upon her neck. Beads of sweat greeting his touch as he nodded in confirmation.

“She has a pulse, but it's rapid.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“No, there's not. Unless it begins to impeded on her sleep and work, then maybe I have something but if I remember correctly, the episodes have to be waited out. It's not something that a pill can resolve. It's 90% psychological 10% medical.”

Chandler took a deep breath and found the nearest seat. He brushed a hand across his face, letting his mind absorb what the doc was relaying to him. Great, one Army Major with possible psychological problems. This was going to add another level of difficulty in finding a cure, let alone a vaccine.

“Look, she's stable now. But the staff will be briefed about this and if it happens again-”

“Happens again!?” The Captain's eyes flew open.

“They can happen like nightmares. No rhyme or reason in when they occur. But you mentioned she was on Guantanamo for some time. Anything else?”

“She was part of a team that was under fire in South America. Didn't go to great lengths about what other than an outbreak in what turned out to be a cartel labor camp.”

“It's possible she was in combat elsewhere. Given her age and rank, I suspect she did and it affected her.”

“You mean, PTSD?” His brow furrowed in deep concern.

“Possibly yes,” the doc shrugged. “Or it could be nothing more than the night terrors and that's it. May not be enough to raise the alarm yet. But, it may be a good idea to keep watch and look for the signs.”

“I'll talk to Dr. Scott.” Chandler stood and turned to leave, knowing there was nothing more he could do. It was all in Doc's very capable hands.

“If anything changes, you will be one of the first to know, Sir.”

“Thank you, Doc,” he offered the man a short smile before leaving him alone with one sweat drenched but soundly sleeping, major.

* * *

 

First, it was light that summoned her. The overpowering brightness of fluorescent tubes.

Second, it was sound. The sounds of men and women fading in and out.

Third, it was smell. Sterile and latex intertwining with chemical or cleaner.

The Major groaned as she stirred in the bunk. Her fingers brushed over the damp sheet and blanket.

_Why are these wet?!_

The drug still traversed her veins, dulling her motor skills as seen with the sluggish sweep of her arm across the saturated shirt.

“W-w-w-w-w-what.....” Her tongue thick and disobedient.

“Good morning, Major,” Doc Rios pulled up the chair adjacent to her. She blinked several times, hoping her vision would focus.

“W-w-w-w-w-why a-a-a-a-am I wet?” Damn she wished her limbs would work.

“You had a night terror Major.”

“I what?” She felt her arm slap her face in an attempt of her fingers to pinch the bridge of her nose. Ouch, that hurt.

“You were sleeping one moment then in the next you were thrashing and screaming. Captain Chandler and I restrained you so you wouldn't hit your arms or legs on the metal posts. He tried to get you to snap out of it but it didn't work. Had to let it pass. It's all you can do with one.”

“I-I don't remember it.”

“I did some reading up on them and when adults have them, it's rare for them to remember any part of one.”

“Guess it's a good thing then. Must've been pretty bad.”

“It was rough but it stopped as fast as it started.”

“Sorry, I know I wasn't in control but still, I'm sorry for scaring either one of you if I did.” She took a deep slow breath. “The last thing you need is me having freak outs in my sleep.”

“Major,” Doc Rios relaxed in the chair despite it being unforgiving to his posture. “You can't control them. They happen, they happen. Now if they disrupt your sleep and work then we have a problem. For now, I think you need to rest another day.”

“And cue the unhappy Captain,” the Major exhaled loudly. “I know he's anxious for a cure or at the very least a vaccine. I don't think he understands how the process works. We can't throw everything in a blender, hit the button, and get a vaccine. It's not bartending.”

“Nice analogy,” Doc chuckled.

“Thanks,” she shifted to her side, finding that moving was on par with moving a ton of bricks.

“Jesus, what did you give me again?! I feel like a sloth!”

“Your headache and body don't hurt right?” He arched an eyebrow with a hint of sarcasm.

“Point taken,” the Major huffed.

* * *

 

“So, how's Sleeping Beauty?” Slattery couldn't help himself as he took another cup of coffee.

“Out cold last I heard. She had a rough night.” Chandler was vague about the night terror. “Considering everything that transpired.”

Breakfast was intimate as the rest of the officers had either taken their meals and reported for duty or had not arrived yet.

“What did Doc Rios say? When can she get to work?”

“I know you're not her biggest fan Mike but what she knows about the virus is vital. She mentioned something disturbing.”

“What do you mean?” The eggs were fluffy fresh and melted like butter along his tongue.

“Back at the docks, she said they weren't the only ones. I'm not sure what that meant but I want to find out.”

The phone rang behind them and Chandler leaped up, banging his knee on the underside of the solid oak. His face darkened into a deep grimace as he snagged the receiver off the hook.

“Yeah,” he fought to maintain a balanced tone.

_“It's Doc Rios, Sir. Major Koch is awake.”_

“Thanks for the update.” He hung up the phone and felt a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Doc Rios says Major Koch is coherent.”

“Joy,” Mike continued eating, refusing to let any thoughts of the snarky officer ruin his appetite. Bacon's cooking was simply divine. The things he can do with food were mind blowing and one of the few good things left in this world. He wondered when the next time dinner would be Chicken Alfredo.

* * *

 

“I don't remember the last time I was able to eat this well.”

The Major dropped back on the mattress, letting the delicious essences of eggs, bacon, and OJ appease the anger in her stomach. Now a hot shower and some time in the lab would top off her day.

“Major Koch.”

And that shower would have to wait.

She lifted her upper body up and off, letting her elbow prop her up. The invisible weight which earlier dragged her down was alleviated some.

“Captain Chandler,” she greeted the man as he pulled up a chair alongside her. He caught the damp tresses flattened to her neck and forehead. Her eyes were lidded but alert as the oversized shirt and pants fluttered around her arms and legs, making her appear smaller and fragile; a stark contrast to the professional soldier he had greeted at Gitmo.

“You had a rough night Major. How are you feeling this morning?” Her ears picked up a bit of concern in his tone but shook it off as simple professionalism and proper conduct.

“As if I had just completed the Boston Marathon, Sir. But ready to get back in the lab.” Chandler kept his face stoic but couldn't help to take in the entire sight of their newest house guest as she remained stretched out on the narrow bedding. Where Dr. Scott was passive in the face of Mike and his undermining, Major Koch didn't hesitate to go round and round with his XO. She wasn't arrogant like some officers he had known but did tread that fine line between them which was on display back on the bridge. Her eyes always observing, studying, taking in her surroundings. However, she was willing to put her ass on the line for him despite having met him minutes before with a gun pointed at her and she did kill an Al Qaeda asshole with her bare hands. Clearly she held no reservations about getting her hands dirty. It was clear her superiors saw something great in her if she possessed such a rank. Perhaps he would be privy, along with the rest of the crew, to catch a glimpse of those hidden qualities.

But aside from those observations, the Captain was unsure of what to make of the Army officer.

“Well, I can see you're anxious to get to work.”

“Anxious would be an understatement.”

The Major shifted more onto her side, allowing for a better vantage to speak. She couldn't but help to notice how handsome the Captain was. Broad shoulders cloaked in the Naval uniform. A bit of a tan crept around his neck and face with a commanding gaze encased in light ice and steel. The term Silver Fox shot up in her mind and it was fitting. He was collective and calm, unlike his XO who was an ass. Still, he didn't make XO without some merit but it didn't justify his inquisition.

“When you're up, I'd like to have a word with you before you proceed to the lab.”

“Of course,” she was caught off guard. She wondered what could the Captain possibly want to speak to her about. They already had their little council with Slattery and she played along with his interrogation.

“It has nothing to do with anyone but something you mentioned on the docks after we took out the terrorists. You said you and Dr. Scott weren't the only ones.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I said I would tell you and I intend to.”

“First, get better then we'll talk.”

“Of course, Captain,” she leaned back on the pillow, letting her lungs push the air that had been trapped within them. Maybe he had answers or knew something that would help in finding out what in the Hell happened between the time she left Guiana and was picked up at Gitmo.

She had the sinking sensation she wouldn't get to see the lab anytime too soon.

Hopefully Rachel had not touched any of her work or found out what was she doing.

 


End file.
